Ordo ab Chao
by Wandergirl108
Summary: In a world where nature is scorned, and murder is law, can the prodigal daughter atone for the sins of the father? Or will chaos reign forevermore? Contains some Gramber and a tiny bit of Grilo. Please note the extra "deleted" chapter after the epilogue!
1. Truth Hurts

It was about a month after the death of Rotti Largo. Shilo had vanished, Amber had taken over GeneCo, Pavi had won his sister's face in an auction with the "help" of his brother Luigi, and overall, things were about the same as they had been before. Amber hadn't gotten around to hiring a new Repo-man for Sanatarium Island, but the people were patiently waiting for it, and no one even thought to question whether or not it would happen.

No one ever thought to question anything anymore…

~X~

"Mr. Largo!"

Luigi turned at the call, and was surprised to see the two henchgirls of GeneCo - whose job it was to protect and follow the head of the company - walking towards him _without_ being led by Amber.

"What do you want?" he snapped at them.

The two female robo-guards hesitated, looking at each other.

"Where's Amber?" Luigi demanded.

"In her office," replied one.

"Something's wrong," said the other.

Luigi blinked. "What do you mean, something's wrong?" he asked, not too kindly.

"She ordered us to leave," began one,

"But there's something that isn't right," continued the other.

"Our job is to look after the head of GeneCo," the first henchgirl told Luigi,

"But this is something we aren't familiar with," finished the second.

Luigi stared at them.

"We were hoping that perhaps you could look into it," one of the henchgirls finally said.

"Let me see if I've got this straight," said Luigi; "Something's wrong with my sister - something you can't help her with - and you two had brains enough to think to ask someone else for help?"

"Sir, we're just doing our job," said the other henchgirl.

Luigi rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll see what's up," he growled, and he headed to his sister's office.

"Sir?"

Luigi turned back to the two henchgirls. "What?" he snapped.

"What should _we_ do?" asked one of them.

"I don't know!" Luigi snarled contemptuously. "What the fuck do you freaks do in your spare time?"

"We don't have spare time, Sir," replied the other one.

Luigi rolled his eyes again. "Just stay here while I figure out what the problem is," he told them.

"Yes, Sir!" they both said at the same time.

Luigi sighed as he walked away - he knew that neither of the two henchgirls would take a single step from where they were standing until he came back.

_Fucking robots…_

_What the fuck could be so exceptionally wrong with Amber that they'd come to _me_, anyway?_

~X~

Luigi hadn't even taken a single step into his sister's office before he heard her speak; and right away, he could tell that something was, indeed, wrong.

"Thought I ssssaid go 'way," she said; it sounded like she was having trouble speaking.

Luigi stepped out of the elevator, unable to respond. What could be so wrong with her that she couldn't talk? Had she become the first person in history to OD on Zydrate, or…?

He saw her stand up from where she had been laying on the little couch she had always liked to lie on back when their father had been in charge. She didn't look okay. She looked…half-asleep. She was still beautiful - _freakishly_ beautiful, as always - but something was definitely wrong.

She blinked her half-lidded eyes woozily as she walked unsteadily towards him; it seemed like she couldn't see or move very well, either.

"Oh," she said, stopping about halfway across the room and sounding as though forming words was laborious; "'s you. Whadaya want?"

"Sister…?" Luigi said hesitantly, walking towards her. "Wh…Are you okay?"

For some reason, she laughed.

"'m I okay?" she repeated. "No, 'course 'm not okay. Nothin's 'kay. Y're not okay, either." She laughed again.

Luigi shook his head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked, bewildered.

She laughed again. "Everythin'," she slurred. "'m 's fucked up 's hell, same 's everybody else." More laughter.

She turned back around, apparently headed to lie back down. When she stumbled, Luigi leapt forward without even thinking and grabbed her to keep her from falling. He was too worried about her to register the strange smell that hung around her.

She looked at him, her eyes still half-lidded, with a strange, distant smile on her face. "Thanks," she slurred. "Leggo."

Luigi let go of his sister and watched her teeter back around and sit down heavily on the little couch-thing.

He shook his head, walking over to her. "This isn't Zydrate," he said.

Amber laughed again. "Oh, Z," she said, almost fondly. "The miracle drug. Cures what ails ya. No more pain." More laughter. "'f only it meant 'no more thinking', too." She grinned weirdly, grabbed one of the many bottles that Luigi hadn't noticed on the floor in front of her, and thrust the bottle into the air. "Here's to Z," she said; "the un-craziest shit 'n this fucked-up world!"

Luigi watched as she brought the bottle to her lips and gulped the contents sloppily. Some of the liquid sloshed out of the side of her mouth, dripping down her neck and staining the gown she always wore when she was home, but she didn't even seem to notice.

That was when he noticed the smell. He looked at all the bottles on the floor. About half of them were open, some were tipped over, and they numbered at least two dozen. "What the fuck _is_ that stuff?" he asked her.

She stopped drinking and turned her woozy gaze to him, no longer smiling. "'s called 'alcohol', genius," she replied. "Ever heard 'f it?" She burped loudly.

Luigi wrinkled his nose in disgust. "How much have you _had_?" he snarled.

"Hell 'f a lot more 'n anybody has 'n a long time," she replied. "People don' get high on this shit 'nymore. Everybody does Z now'days." She chuckled. "'m drunk," she told her brother. "Nobody's been drunk 'n this world 'n a long fuckin' time. Not s'prised you didn' think 'f it." She hiccuped, then sighed. "Not drunk 'nough," she muttered, and she brought the bottle to her lips again and continued drinking.

Luigi stared at her for a moment.

"Stop it!" he finally shouted, and he grabbed the bottle out of her hand and threw it against the wall, where it shattered, sending wine and glass spraying everywhere.

Amber stared at the spot where the bottle had broken for a minute, then slowly turned back to Luigi. "Do you've any idea how rare that crap is?" she asked him woozily. "Had to go through 'bout twen'y diff'rent ex-countries to find all this."

"Sister…" Luigi shook his head. "Why are you _doing_ this?" he asked, completely bewildered. "What's going on?"

"'s'not about what's goin' on," Amber slurred. "'s about what _was_ goin' on, with dad in charge." She belched. "Y'know what he did?" she asked her brother.

"He saved the world," Luigi replied, surprised that she would even ask.

She chuckled. "Yeah, tha's 'bout the only _good_ thing he did," she muttered, "'n' maybe it wasn' so good, after all. Almos' would've been better 'f he'd let mankind die out. Least then humans would've left behind a good legacy."

"What are you talking about?" Luigi asked, getting more and more confused by the second.

"Dad saved mankind, all right," Amber went on, almost as though she hadn't heard her brother. She picked up another bottle, stared at it for a minute, then opened it. "Rotti Largo, the big savior," she muttered. She drank heavily, hiccuped, then went on, "W's a deal w'the devil, though. Dad took 'way everythin' that mattered 'n the world. No more freedom. No more free will. No more thinkin' f'r y'rself. Surgery 's a…fuckin' fashion statement, happiness 's a warm scalpel." She laughed. "Y'know the sayin', 'It's what's inside that counts'?" she asked her brother. "Once 'pon a time, that sayin' had nothin' to do w'th organs. W's talkin' 'bout the soul." She smiled mirthlessly. "Nobody knows what 'soul' means 'nymore," she said. "Nobody cares. Everythin's 'bout genetics, now. Jus' a century 'go, people didn't know th'first damn thing 'bout genetics." She chuckled. "Course, people don't know th'first damn thing 'bout genetics now, either. Everyone thinks genetics 's all that matters, that it's destiny. 's'not. 'n' 'sides, changin' organs 's got nothin' t'do with genetics. Not that I knew that," she added before taking another long drink from the bottle she was holding.

Luigi was shocked. "Sister…stop it!" he exclaimed again, pulling the bottle out of her hand and smashing that against the wall, too.

"You stop it," she said. "I need that."

"Why the fuck do you need-?" Luigi began.

"Don' wanna think," Amber answered. She hiccuped. "Thing 'bout Z, doesn't make it harder t'think. This stuff…makes _everythin'_ harder." She giggled drunkenly.

Luigi didn't know what to say.

She smiled tipsily at him. "D'd you know, couple hun'red years 'go, this stuff was the only anesthetic known to man?" she asked him. Her tipsy smile widened, and she picked up another bottle, this one half-empty, and looked at it. "Tastes like shit," she muttered. "'pparently, has a ton 'f nasty side effects, too. 's poisonous - too much'll kill ya."

"So stop drinking it!" Luigi shouted, grabbing the bottle in her hand before she had a chance to drink from it and smashing it, too.

She gave him a woozy attempt at a glare. "Stop it," she said.

"_No_!" Luigi shouted furiously. "_You_ stop it! Why are you doing this, sister?"

"'cause I don' wanna know what I jus' found out," Amber slurred, stern despite her impaired speech.

"And what did you find out?" Luigi demanded.

"That dad fucked the world up b'yond repair," Amber replied. "You know he _'nvented_ GENterns?" She laughed. "Sex 'n' surgery," she muttered. "'s'all the world knows. 's all _I_ knew." She looked up at her brother. "You know, surg'ry used t'be a big deal?" she said. "Used to take months 'f prep 'n' recov'ry. People didn' do it 'nless they _really_ needed to." She hiccuped.

"Sister…it's not like you didn't already know that," Luigi said. "Yeah, I knew GeneCo started the idea of surgery being a fashion statement, and that there were no GENterns before GeneCo. We all knew that."

"Dad want'd money 'n' power," Amber went on, ignoring Luigi, "'n' he got it, all right. Took over the whole fuckin' world, then fucked it up." She smiled at Luigi again. "Y'know, murder used t'be illegal," she said. "Punish'ble by death."

"It still is," Luigi said.

"Oh, really?" she asked sarcastically. "Th'n tell me, o brother 'f mine: how come you're still breathin'?"

Luigi blinked. He had no idea how to answer.

"You're a murd'rer," Amber slurred. "So's Pavi." She laughed. "Pav the perv," she muttered. She hiccuped, then sighed heavily. "But nobody gives a shit," she went on. "We're Largos - nobody stands up to us. We can do whatever the" - she hiccuped - "fuck we want, 'n' nobody'll stop us. 's'not right."

"Murder is still illegal," Luigi finally managed. He had never thought about things that way…

"Still think so?" Amber asked. "Th'n tell me _this_, brother dear: what the fuck's organ rep'ssession?"

Luigi blinked again.

"'s'murder," Amber said. "'s'_brutal_ murder. No quick death, no humanity. People're chased, terr'rized, 'n' repo-ed while they're still breathin'. Hearts're ripped outta chests while they're still beatin'. 's'terrible. 's'not right." She shook her head and reached for another bottle.

Luigi pulled out one of the many knives he always had on his person. "Sister, I swear, if you touch one more bottle of that stuff, I will cut your fucking hand off!" he snarled at her.

She blinked woozily at him. "'f'you did that, I'd bleed t'death 'n five seconds," she said.

Luigi blinked; he hadn't thought of that. "Well, okay, maybe I won't cut it _off_, but I will cut you!" he snapped after a moment.

"Alright," she said, throwing up her hands in a gesture of surrender. She laid back down and smiled again, this time distantly.

"Spent so much time here, thinkin' 'bout gettin' my next surg'ry, 'r my next fix, 'r my next fuck," she said, more to herself than to Luigi. "Didn' know there was anythin' wrong with it. Didn' know I was fucked up." She laughed. "Speakin' 'f fucked…I've prob'ly fucked more'n three-fourths o' th' men 'n this town," she said, and she shrugged. "'n' I thought that was fine. Didn' know bein' a slut was somethin' t'be 'shamed of." She laughed again. "Well, least I never hurt 'nybody. I'm the only one 'n the family who doesn' have blood on their hands." She chuckled. "'n dad called me disgustin'…" She turned her smile to Luigi again. "Y'know, when he said I wasn' his daughter…it hurt," she told him. "Really hurt. Now…" She chuckled again. "Well, now I know what I know 'bout him, 's'not so bad. 's'almost a compliment."

"So what did you just learn?" Luigi demanded. "You already knew about the Repo-man, and everything else! What's new?"

"Wh's new is, I didn' know that people didn' used to put up with this shit," Amber slurred in reply. "Y'know, everybody's waitin' for me to hire a new Repo-man? Nobody thinks 's wrong. Nobody thinks, period. Didn' used to be that way. And…" She chuckled again. "Didn' know dad w's a murd'rer. Didn' know…"

"_What_?" Luigi exclaimed. "_Dad_?"

"Yup," Amber said.

"Who'd Pop kill?" Luigi asked, shocked.

"You r'member Marni?" Amber asked him. "She used t'date dad. I w's seven back then, don' r'member much, but you were, what, twen'y?"

"Yeah, I remember her," Luigi said, wondering where this was going.

"Mm-hmm," Amber said, nodding. "Yup, she was murdered, all right. Jus' not by Shilo's dad." She laughed. "It was _our_ dad."

"_WHAT_?" Luigi cried.

"Hm-hmm," Amber said again. "People say she broke dad's heart, but…" She sighed. "Don' think he ever had a heart f'r her to break. He killed her."

"But…but Nathan-!"

"Nath'n tried t'_save_ her," Amber told Luigi, cutting him off. "She w's sick. Nath'n was a doctor. He tried t'd'velop a cure." She shrugged. "'n' maybe he did. Nobody'll ever know, 'cause dad tampered w'th it. Had a GENtern sneak some poison into Nath'n's lab 'n' switch it out with some 'f the med'cine he was usin' to try'n save Marn."

"How…Where did you hear this?" asked Luigi.

"Read it," Amber replied, gesturing to the desk that had once been their father's, which Luigi now noticed was covered in stacks of papers. "Been readin' dad's records. He w's proud 'f it. Never cared 'bout her, 'r anybody else. Didn' like that she didn' want his money, 'r his power. Didn' like that she wanted the only thing he couldn' give her - love." Amber laughed again. "What's 'love' mean to you, brother?" she asked Luigi. "Doesn' mean a damn thing t'me, 'r 'nybody else I know, 'cept Nath'n, Shilo, Marni, 'n' Mag. Dad never loved any 'f us. Never loved anybody, period…'n' that's why we're 's fucked up 's everybody else." She sighed, and her eyes turned to the ceiling, unfocused, as though she were staring off into space. "The old world was so much better," she mumbled. "Wish I'd been alive to see it. Wish I could know what the world was like, 'fore dad fucked it up…"

"Sister…" Luigi was speechless.

"Oh, 'n' one more thing," Amber said to Luigi: "Dad killed Mag, too. I saw him cut the cord that w's holdin' her up."

"The bitch got what was coming to her!" Luigi snapped.

Amber chuckled. "Yeah, tha's what we thought, right?" she slurred. "We thought she w's a traitor, 'n' that she wasn' doin' the right thing. She was, brother. She was doin' the right thing - the _noble_ thing. She'd've rather died than kept spons'ring dad 'n' GeneCo, 'cause she knew what dad was doin' to the world, 'n' she didn' wanna be part 'f it 'nymore. Actually…" She hiccuped. "I think she never wanted t'be part 'f it, period. She jus' put up w'th it 'cause she was a big deal…took her a while t'overcome the t'mptation 'f all the fame 'n' fortune that came w'th bein' the Voice 'f GeneCo." Amber spread her arms. "'n' look at us, brother," she went on. "We've all the money, power, 'n' freedom we could ask for." She chuckled again. "Thing is, all the money, power, 'n' freedom 'n th'world isn' worth shit when you're hurt 'n' alone…'n' we've been alone since the days we were born."

Luigi blinked, frozen; he had no idea what to say to all of this. Finally, he stepped over to her, took her by the arms, and started pulling her up. "Come on, sister," he said; "you need to sleep this off."

She chuckled. "Guess it's time for me t'be the first t'have a hangover 'n decades, too, huh?" she said, but she stood up, if unsteadily.

Luigi helped her to the elevator, and then to her room. Despite his temper and thirst for blood, he really did care for his sister, and he was worried about her.

"You're not alone, sister," he said when she was safely in bed in her ridiculously gaudy bedroom.

"Thanks, brother," she said.

He nodded and turned to leave.

"Hey, Luigi?" she said as he reached the door.

He turned back to her.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him. "You're a fucked-up, bloodthirsty lunatic, but 'm glad t'have you f'r a brother."

"Thanks…I think," Luigi said, unsure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult.

"G'night, brother," she said.

"Good night, sister," Luigi said hesitantly. He didn't have any idea how to deal with someone who was drunk, so he left a bit reluctantly.

_Oh well,_ he thought. _Not my problem._

He went back to find Amber's henchgirls. Sure enough, they hadn't moved an inch from where they'd been when he'd last seen them.

"She's in her room," he told them. "Go do whatever it is you do when she's sleeping."

"Yes, Sir," they said simultaneously, and they marched in the direction from which he had come.

Luigi watched them go.

_This is gonna be a media shitstorm tomorrow,_ he thought…


	2. Hope

Morning came in the city. As always, before he went out on his rounds, Graverobber took a quick look at the newspaper, just to see what kind of shit GeneCo was pulling today. Nothing had changed much. Not that he had expected Amber to change much of anything; in fact, he was surprised that she actually seemed to be keeping the company going at all. The only difference in her schedule, as far as he knew, was that she wasn't getting her Zydrate from him anymore._ Which is a shame,_ he hated himself for thinking. Yeah, she disgusted him, but she was still one mighty fine piece of ass…

He read the news…and his world stopped.

_No._

His hands shook - with rage or despair, he didn't know._ No,_ he thought again. _There is no way things can possibly be _that_ fucked up…_

_…and if it's true…_

He closed his eyes. _Then robbing graves isn't enough anymore._

He sighed angrily, folded the newspaper, tossed it onto the ground, and turned towards GeneCo HQ. He had watched Rotti Largo unleash abomination after abomination on the world, watched cold and darkness envelop all that had once been warm and bright; it was why he'd become a necromerchant and moved to Sanatarium Island in the first place - to rebel against the monster who ruled and destroyed the world. But this…this wasn't something rebellion could help him endure. This was a whole new sort of wrong, the kind that would cause what little remained to collapse in on itself, leaving nothing at all.

_It can't be true,_ he thought as he marched down the street. _I need to see this with my own eyes, or it's not true._

_It can't be true…_

~X~

The secretary at the front desk of GeneCo HQ was startled that morning by a fist slamming on her desk.

"Where is she?" demanded Graverobber.

The secretary looked at him, blinking with shock. "Excuse me, Sir?" she asked.

"Miss Sweet - where is she?" Graverobber demanded furiously.

"I'm sorry, Sir, you are…?" the secretary asked.

"Graverobber." He spat out his pseudo-name with violent impatience.

The secretary blinked.

Graverobber rolled his eyes. "Just tell me where the fuck she is," he said.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I can't-"

"I just need to speak with her," Graverobber told the poor woman. "Just tell me where she is."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sir," the secretary said. "If you would like to schedule an appointment-"

"Oh, for shit's sake, since when does Miss Sweet do anything by the book?" Graverobber snapped. "An appointment? Fuck that! I need to speak with her _now_!" He slammed his hand on the desk again.

"Sir, please calm down-" the secretary began in vain.

"Oh, don't bother," he told her coldly. "I've been putting up with this world's shit for years - I'm done pretending I'm okay with it!"

"Well, I'm afraid Miss Sweet can't see anyone right now," the secretary said. "She's…not feeling well."

"Oh, she'd better be feeling well," he muttered under his breath. He turned his glare back on the secretary. "I'd threaten you, but since you work here, you're probably just a robot who doesn't care whether you live or not," he said scathingly, "so all I can do is assure you that I won't hurt her unless she deserves it, and demand that you tell me where she is until either you tell me or I stop breathing!"

"Sir, I'm sorry, who are you again?" the unfortunate woman asked.

"I'm Graverobber!" he snarled.

"And why is it so urgent you see Miss Sweet, Mr-?"

"No 'Mr'," Graverobber told her. "I'm Graverobber - that's all I am. Do you not know what a grave-robber is?"

The secretary blinked. "Oh," she said.

Graverobber rolled his eyes. "Look," he said, "she and I have history."

"I'm afraid that's not particularly exceptional," the secretary said. "Miss Sweet has…erm, _history_, with half the men in this city."

"Half?" Graverobber repeated, raising an eyebrow at her. "Is that all?"

The woman bit her lip.

"Huh," Graverobber said sarcastically; "seems I'm part of a more exclusive group than I thought."

The woman screwed her eyes shut, biting her lip harder.

Graverobber rolled his eyes again. "Oh, for shit's sake, Rotti's dead!" he snapped. "You don't have to worry about being executed for laughing anymore!"

The secretary shook her head as though trying to clear it, then said, "Sir, I'm sorry, but if you wish to speak with her, you'll have to come back later-"

"If she's not feeling well, then I can help her," Graverobber told the woman, playing the last card he had. "Now where is she?"

The secretary hesitated for a minute.

"She's…in her room," she finally answered.

"Which is _where_?" Graverobber asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Oh! Um, just take the elevator to the top floor. Her guards are positioned outside her door," the woman replied.

"Of course," he said sarcastically, and he headed for the elevator.

"Sir?"

Graverobber turned back around.

"I think it's only fair to warn you…Miss Sweet has ordered that anyone who tries to disturb her be shot," the secretary told him.

"Hmm…" Graverobber said. "Well, her father ordered that all grave-robbers be shot on sight, yet here I am."

"Just thought you should know," the secretary said.

Graverobber nodded his thanks and marched over to the elevator. He didn't particularly mind that what he was doing was punishable by death - that had been the story of his life for years. Besides, it would be nice if someone finally put him out of his misery…

~X~

Amber was bedridden.

She had read that hangovers were bad, but this was unlike anything she could have imagined. She'd woken up with a pounding headache, and had had to promptly rush to her bathroom and throw up. Puking her guts up for over an hour while her head felt like it was being pounded on with hammers was the worst thing she had ever been through. After that part was over, she'd had to completely kill all the lights in her room, black out the windows, demand complete privacy, and lie down - the sensation of light or sound, even in small amounts, was almost unbearable.

Despite the agony of being hung over, she refused to take Zydrate for the pain. _I'd rather be in agony than take any more shit my dad invented,_ she thought determinedly, and she forced herself to endure the pain without help.

So it was that she was focusing on her breathing, forcing herself to draw one breath after another, with her only comfort being that the pain wouldn't last forever, when her door slammed open, the sound like a spike being pounded into her skull.

"Aah!" she cried out.

The door slammed again.

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her head instinctively, trying to bear the agony the sound caused her.

When the pain had subsided enough that she could think again, her first thoughts were: _Who the fuck would come in here now? I commanded to be left alone! And why didn't my guards shoot them, whoever they are?_

She forced her eyes open a crack and turned to the door. What she saw couldn't have been more unexpected.

"You…?" she breathed.

Graverobber stood there, giving her a lethal glare. He said nothing.

"Why are you here?" Amber asked him weakly.

"I heard you got drunk last night and were bedridden with a hangover," he replied coldly. "I thought to myself, 'That's impossible; not even Miss Sweet would be that stupid. This is something I have to see with my own eyes, or I don't believe it.'" His already-deadly glare sharpened. "And here I am, and here you are, gritting your teeth in pain at the sound of my voice." He clenched his fists. "So it's true, then? You really stooped that low?"

She closed her eyes. "Yes," she admitted.

"Why?" The demand was cold, sharp, and dangerous.

"Look, how'd you even get in here?" she asked him.

"I don't know," he replied. "I heard that anyone who tried to disturb you was to be shot, and I expected - indeed, I even _hoped_ - that your robots outside would kill me as I opened the door, but for some reason, they didn't. You'll have to talk to them about that yourself, _Your Royal Highness_." He said the last three words with such sarcasm and disdain that they sounded like the opposite of what they actually meant on their own.

Amber was in too much pain to register the fact that he'd basically just told her that he wanted to die. "Look," she said, "you have every right to be disgusted with me. What exactly it is you want from me, I don't know, but could you come back later? I really can't talk right now."

"And if I come back later, how do I know this won't have happened again?" he demanded sharply.

"You don't," she admitted, "but I really, _really_ can't talk right now. It hurts too much."

"Well then, here," he hissed, and she heard him walk towards her. "Let me help you."

She opened her eyes to see him approaching her with a Zydrate gun.

"Wait! No!" she exclaimed, despite the fact that shouting caused her pain.

Graverobber ignored her, pressed the head of the gun against her bare shoulder, and pulled the trigger.

"Oh!" she gasped involuntarily as the familiar sensation of pleasurable numbness spread through her body. In seconds, her headache was completely gone, and she felt like new.

"There now," Graverobber said mockingly; "feel better?"

She glared at him.

"Consider that one on me," he said in a low voice, putting the gun away.

"Did it ever occur to you that there might be a _reason_ why I didn't do that three hours ago?" Amber snarled as she got out of bed and stood up. She wasn't naked - she was still wearing the dress she wore when she wasn't out and about - and she didn't like the 'helplessness' part of the image she portrayed lying in bed.

"I assumed it wasn't your choice, as you aren't the sort of person to pass up any excuse to take Zydrate," Graverobber replied coolly.

Amber walked around her bed so she could get right in his face. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked coldly. "What could possibly be worth risking your life just to say it to me?" She gave him a sarcastic smile. "I'd be flattered, but I highly doubt you're here for my benefit."

He blinked, apparently surprised by her words.

Seeing this, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on," she said, "you think I think you care about me? Please. I'm selfish, not stupid!" She glared at him again. "Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't call my guards in here and have them kill you."

"Oh, I can't think of one!" Graverobber replied. "So why don't you do that, hm? Go ahead and call them in here! Put me out of my misery!"

"_Your_ misery?" Amber repeated angrily. "Oh, cry me a fucking river! How long have you been miserable? A few weeks? A few years?"

"Try more than half my life!" Graverobber spat.

"Boo hoo, fuck you!" Amber sneered. "Half your life? Sounds like fucking paradise to me!"

"Oh, don't you dare act like you know a single fucking thing about being miserable, you disgusting bitch!" Graverobber snapped.

"Oh, so I'm disgusting, am I?" Amber retorted. She sneered at him. "You didn't seem to think so when you let me fuck your brains out for a hit of Z a month ago!"

He flinched and took a step back, unable to meet her eyes at this. Instead of feeling smug, however, Amber just felt mean. Mean and tired.

She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "That wasn't fair."

"No, that was fair," Graverobber admitted. Then, suddenly, he blinked and said, "Wait…did the words 'I'm sorry' just come out of your mouth?"

She smirked. "I'm a lot of things, Graverobber, but heartless is not one of them," she said. "A bitch? Sure." Her expression hardened. "But I'm not my father."

"No, you certainly aren't your father," Graverobber sneered; "at least your father had a brain! And yes, you are disgusting!"

"Oh, well excuse me!" Amber snapped. "Why don't _you_ try being raised by GENterns, and _then_ talk to me about it?"

He blinked. "You were raised by GENterns?" he asked in an odd tone of voice.

"Yep," Amber replied, crossing her arms as she sensed a shift in who was winning the argument; "GENterns and guards who weren't capable of doing anything except following orders. In other words, I was on my own from the day I was born. Same goes for my brothers."

Graverobber crossed his arms, too, and he still glared at her with loathing and disgust, but he couldn't seem to think of something else to say.

"My father may have had a brain," Amber went on coldly, "but as far as responsibility went, he was practically a baby."

"You know what?" Graverobber suddenly snarled. "I think I'll use your phrase for this: Boo hoo, _fuck you_! You think you know what it's like to be unhappy?"

"I don't have the faintest fucking idea what it feels like to _not_ be unhappy!" Amber shouted. "Why the fuck do you think I got addicted to surgery?" She glared at him. "You think I have everything, don't you?" she hissed dangerously. "Yeah, sure, I have all the money, power, and freedom I could ask for, so I'm sure it looks to you like I have the perfect life. Well, news flash, Graverobber: all the money, power, and freedom in the fucking _world_ isn't worth _shit_ when you're hurt and alone!"

"Don't talk to me about being hurt, and don't you _dare_ talk to me about being alone!" Graverobber snapped. "You've _never_ been alone!"

"If you're thinking of those two morons who used to follow me everywhere like fucking shadows, they may as well have never been there at all!" Amber snapped. "Yeah, I've been surrounded my whole life, all right - by fucking _robots_! That's _worse_ than being completely alone - take it from someone who knows!"

"Since when are you anything but proud of your life?" Graverobber sneered.

"Since when are _you_ such a jackass?" Amber retorted. "I've been buying Z from you for years, and you've never been half this much of a dick!"

"Well, you don't buy from me anymore, so I don't have to be nice to you," Graverobber replied. "Acting like my customers don't disgust me is part of my job description…and believe me, no one has _ever_ made that part of my job harder than you!"

"Again I say excuse me for not knowing anything besides sex and surgery!" Amber snapped.

"You still haven't answered my question," Graverobber snarled. "Where is all this coming from? As long as I've known you, you've always acted like you thought you were the shit!"

"Yeah, well, I used to think a lot of things," Amber replied sarcastically. "I used to think there was nothing wrong with being a slut. I used to think free will still existed in this world. I used to think organ repossession was totally okay and _not_ fucked up. I used to think that Blind Mag was a traitor and an ungrateful bitch. I used to think Marni Wallace was murdered by Shilo's father and not mine. I used to think my father was a good man. I used to think genetics was all that mattered. I used to think getting organ transplants had any-fucking-thing to do with genetics. I used to think I knew the meaning of the word 'soul'. I used to think my father _saved_ the world, not fucked it up beyond repair. I used to think a lot of really stupid fucking things, and I was _wrong_!" She paused at the end of this tirade to catch her breath.

Graverobber stared at her in shock.

"And _that_, Graverobber, is why I didn't take Z three fucking hours ago," Amber told him angrily; "I don't want to have anything to do with my father's shit anymore." She paused, thinking, then added, "But I guess it's okay coming from you, since your Z was procured against my father's rules."

There was silence for a minute.

"Is…that why you got drunk last night?" Graverobber finally asked.

"That's right," Amber replied. "I read through my father's records yesterday - learned a lot of really fucked-up shit." She shrugged. "And yeah, maybe I reacted badly. I found out that everything I thought I knew was a lie, and I took it hard. I don't plan on doing it again."

Graverobber shook his head, looking at her again with disgust. "You don't _plan_ on it, but there's no guarantee?" he asked disdainfully.

"No guarantee," she admitted, shrugging. "I mean, I still have a dozen bottles of the stuff."

Graverobber shook his head again. "You make me sick," he spat.

"Duly noted," Amber replied mockingly. "Now, for the last time: Why the fuck are you here?"

"I already told you why I'm here," he replied coolly.

"Because you couldn't believe I got drunk?" Amber asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Why the fuck is that _your_ problem?"

"Because it's _my world_, bitch!" Graverobber snarled. "I may be the only one left who gives a shit, but I'll be _damned_ if I just sit back and let you fuck up even worse than your fucking father!"

"_No one_ could fuck up worse than my father!" Amber snapped. "Okay, yeah, sure, getting drunk when I'm supposed to run the world was impulsive and immature, but that's not worse than what my father did!"

"Debatable," Graverobber retorted.

"No, it is _not_ 'debatable'!" Amber snapped, making air quotes around the word. "My father was a monster!" Before he could argue any further, she added, "And why are you shouting at _me_ when you never stood up to _him_, anyway?"

"I _did_ stand up to him!" Graverobber yelled. "I stood up to him for _years_!"

"How so?" Amber asked mockingly.

He sneered at her. "You're not very bright, are you?" he asked disdainfully.

Recognizing her own words to him from the day they had met, Amber decided not to take offense. Instead, she thought about what he was implying…

Something clicked in her brain, and she realized just exactly what he was saying.

In an instant, her irritation at him vanished.

"Are you…?" she asked softly. "…Do you rob graves…_because_ it's illegal? Are you…a rebel?"

"And proud of it," he replied scathingly.

Amber's eyes widened, and she stared at him as though she'd never seen him before. She felt something rise in her chest that she had thought she would never experience: hope.

"Is there a problem?" Graverobber snapped, breaking the awkward silence.

Amber blinked, realizing she had just been staring at him for about a minute. She recovered quickly, though, and she smiled sarcastically and replied, "Oh, there's a problem, all right; it's called 'the whole world and everything in it'. But you already knew that…and you can help me."

"_Help_ you?" Graverobber exclaimed furiously. "Why would I _help_ you?"

Amber hadn't really meant to say that last part out loud, but she didn't show it. "Don't you want things to change?" she asked instead with mock innocence.

"I gave up on things changing long ago," Graverobber snarled. "It's no loss for me if things stay the way they are."

Amber's instinct kicked in then, and without even thinking about it, she stepped up to him, gave him a sexy smile, and teased, "I'll make it worth your while."

She knew she didn't imagine the lust that ignited in his eyes at her words. It was gone quickly, though, and he shook his head in disgust. "I hate to repeat a sentiment, but I'll make an exception in your case," he spat: "You. Make. Me. Sick!"

Amber opened her mouth to say something about how she knew he wanted her, but before the words came out, she suddenly realized what she was doing, and she stopped herself. _No,_ she told herself firmly. _I'm _done_ with that._

She stepped back, took a breath, thought for a second, then asked, "Well, what do you want? What would make helping me fix things worth it for you?"

He faltered, and she knew she had caught him off-guard by backing off. It took a surprising amount of effort for her not to laugh at his reaction to her _un_-slutty response, but she managed to hold it in.

"What do you want, Graverobber?" she asked him again after a minute, not unkindly. "Name your price; I'll pay it. Anything is worth undoing what my father did…so what is it you want?"

"Is your head separated from your shoulders too much to ask?" Graverobber asked mockingly.

She shrugged. "Is that what you want?" she asked. "If that's what you want, that's fine. I'll set things up so you'll be in charge, then go kill myself. I'll even let you do it, if you want. So…_is_ that what you want?" She didn't know if she was really willing to go that far or if she was just calling his bluff, but it didn't really matter just then.

He blinked, looking completely dumbstruck, and she had to force back a smile.

"Well…not if you're okay with it!" he finally replied.

It was too much; she laughed. "Baby, you make no sense!" she taunted. "You only want me to die if I'm _not_ willing to do it for you? Come on - is that even _supposed_ to make sense?"

"Oh, go to hell!" he snapped.

"Is that what you want?" she teased.

"_Shut up_!" he shouted.

She laughed at him; she couldn't help it. It didn't matter that she needed his help, didn't matter that laughing at him was the last way to get him on her side - the whole thing was just too funny. She had never felt more ahead of someone, more in control of a situation, then she did at that moment, and it was a good feeling. _All _without_ seducing him,_ she added to herself smugly, and she swore then and there that she would remember this, no matter what.

"Oh, fuck you," Graverobber growled. "I have better things to do with my time than listen to a stupid bitch like you laugh at me." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Amber called after him, forcing herself to stop laughing. "Wait. Hey, I'm sorry." She walked over to stand in front of him, blocking his path to the door. "I'm sorry," she said again.

He just glared at her silently.

"Look…" She sighed, drew herself up, and swallowed every last bit of her pride. "I need your help," she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch that, could you say that again?" Graverobber sneered.

"I need your help," Amber repeated firmly. "There, I've admitted it. Twice. I'll admit it as many times as you want. That's how much I need your help."

"Well, well," he said, crossing his arms.

"What do you want?" she asked him, completely serious. "I need your help, and I'll do whatever you want in return." She allowed herself a half-smile. "There isn't much I can't give you, since I basically rule the world," she pointed out. "So what do you want?"

Even though she was offering a blank-check deal, she didn't even think to be afraid of what he might ask of her. Of course, dealing with someone who had no desire for money and power whatsoever wasn't something she was particularly familiar with…


	3. The Old World

The next 24 hours at GeneCo HQ were hectic. As soon as she was armed with plans that would bring about a new age, Amber wasted no time in taking the huge steps that threw her father's old global system into chaos. It was a necessary evil - in order to bring about a new world, she had to tear down the old one…or, more accurately, vice versa.

As soon as the changes of earth-shattering proportions had been made, she called a press conference. _The people need to know that my father's reign of terror is over, and they need to know _now_,_ she thought as the various reporters gathered. It would be big, and there would be a huge upset, but she knew what she wanted, and she knew what she had to do to get it. She had given herself just enough time to prepare her speech without allowing herself second thoughts - already, there was no turning back - but she didn't really need the script in front of her; there were things that needed to be said, and that was that.

_Three…two…one…go._

"Miss Sweet! Miss Sweet!"

The by-now familiar sound of reporters clamoring for her attention began in earnest. Amber calmly held up her hands for silence. When at last she had it, she began to speak.

"As you all know, my late father, Rotti Largo, founded GeneCo in a time of great need," she began. "A global epidemic threatened to wipe out all of mankind, and through GeneCo, my father kept that from happening." She sighed. "In return, he was given a great deal of power…and I have recently learned how he abused it. My initial reaction - resorting to an alcohol-induced haze - was impulsive and immature, and for that I apologize. It will not happen again. Instead, I will learn from my father's mistakes." She paused, trying to gauge how she was doing. Naturally, none of the reporters present gave her any feedback.

"My father made a lot of changes to this world, with the aim of controlling everyone," Amber finally went on. "He put an end to many good things about this world, and mankind has been living in darkness ever since."

She took a breath. _This is it,_ she thought._ No turning back._

"I aim to put an end to that," she declared.

A ripple of disturbance ran through the crowd before her.

"I aim to bring back the old world," Amber went on, ignoring the murmurs. "I aim to put an end to the chaos with which my father controlled the planet. I aim to bring back a world of nature, of free will, of intellect and humanity…and I have already made several changes to GeneCo to that end." Here, she paused to wait for the crowd to quiet down. What she was about to do would be a major shock, and she wanted the people to be as under control as possible to compensate.

When at last she had silence again, she took a breath and said, "To start with, as of two hours ago, GENterns are a thing of the past."

Predictably, the crowd erupted into chaos, which Amber endured patiently. She had expected it, and indeed, she had even hoped for it - the fact that her declaration caused controversy meant that the people still had some life left in them, which was a good sign.

When at last it was quiet enough that she was certain she would be heard, she went on, "From this day forward, all surgeries will be performed by _surgeons_, as is only right. My father's goal in creating GENterns, as with all of his innovations, was control; brainwashing innocent young women to know only sex and surgery was sick and wrong, and it ends today."

She saw some people glance at each other and whisper in each other's ears, and she knew she would be called out for hypocrisy, but that was okay; it was worth it.

"To those GENterns of the world who are out there: I apologize for what my father did to you," Amber added; this was something she had decided, on her own, that she needed to do. "If you have trouble finding a new place in the world, I offer you my full support, and GeneCo's; but the lives you've known must end now. I hope you have enough humanity left in you to accept your freedom, and I wish you all the best of luck.

"Second," she went on, "also as of two hours ago, my father's system for organ repossession is also a thing of the past."

Again, her words caused an uproar, if of a slightly different tone than the previous one. Again, Amber waited patiently, this time for full silence; there was a lot more to this change.

"That is not to say that organ repossession _itself_ is a thing of the past," she went on when at last she had quiet, "for the very reason that the concept of repossession existed long before GeneCo: If there are no consequences for failing to pay, no one would ever pay, and for all its power and necessity, GeneCo is like any other business in that in needs money to keep going. That said, the days of the dreaded Repo-man, and of horrific legal murders, are over." She paused, letting her words sink in, before going on.

"From here on out, absolutely no one whose organs will be repossessed will suffer," she declared. "As a tribute to Blind Mag, repossession of non-vital organs will no longer be a dangerous process; it will be carried out as a careful medical procedure. As for vital organs…" She paused, knowing that she was about to make a huge upset across the globe, and took a deep breath. "As for vital organs," she repeated more softly, "unless a vital organ transplant is necessary for a person's survival, such surgeries will not be performed unless the patient pays - _in full_ - beforehand."

This time, there was a shocked silence before the outburst, and when the outburst came, it nearly broke Amber's eardrums.

She knew the outcry was completely global. GeneCo had carved out a niche in society by turning surgery - organ transplants - into a fashion statement. Her father had preached, for decades, that even if a person's organs weren't failing, they could always get better ones, and indeed, that they _should_. Nature was scorned in the world Rotti had made - the organs a person was born with could always be, _needed_ to be, replaced and improved on. As organ transplants were still expensive, what Amber had just declared would almost completely put a kibosh on that concept - a concept the world had lived with, and even welcomed, for a very, _very_ long time.

Indeed, it was a concept she herself had welcomed for a very, very long time.

_But no more,_ she told herself firmly. _My father preached that idea to control the people of the world, not because it was right. It _isn't_ right…and it has to be put to an end, _now_._

"I realize," she began, to try to get the crowd to quiet down. They settled down after another minute, and Amber continued, "I realize that this is going to bring about a major change in the way people think of the necessity of organ transplants. I will say it, for the record, right now: That's the point. My father's preaching of surgery as a fashion statement was sick and wrong. Like GENterns, it was a means of controlling the people, not a truth about life or nature, and it ends now." She paused, but everyone had gone deathly silent.

"Now, that is not to say that all organ transplants must be fully paid for in advance," Amber went on. "The reason GeneCo was able to save the world is that it was able to provide organs for those who couldn't immediately afford them. This will continue, but only when a transplant is necessary for a person's health and survival. As for the repossession of such organs…" She took a deep breath. "It will still happen; it must…but it will no longer be performed on live people. From now on, a patient scheduled for vital organ repossession will be euthanized immediately. They will not be subjected to any pain, and hopefully, they will not die in fear, either." She scanned the crowd, trying to meet as many eyes as possible. "I do not want to see this happen," she told them all, "but I know that it will; all I can do is make it as humane a process as possible." She sighed. "To that end, all current Repo-men employed by GeneCo are hereby fired."

_Those_ words caused another uproar. Amber heard the question "Why?" being spoken once or twice in the ruckus, and she held up her hands for silence so that she could answer.

"What people may not realize," she said as the crowd quieted down enough for her to speak, "is that my father didn't just _hire_ Repo-men; he _created_ them. All the Repo-men currently in this world have been trained to kill people brutally, mercilessly, and painfully. They are not capable of performing organ repossession as a humane process." She sighed gravely. "To the Repo-men of the world, as in the case of the GENterns: for this, I cannot apologize enough. I am sorry, truly sorry, for what my father turned you all into. I hope you can find your ways out of the darkness you've been trained to embrace; if there is anything I or GeneCo can do to help you with that, please come forward whenever you wish."

There was silence.

"There is one last thing," Amber said. "As of right now, all debts currently due to GeneCo - _all_ of them, all over the world - are hereby fully pardoned."

There was another uproar, and for the first time since the start of the press conference, Amber smiled. "We're going to start fresh," she told the world, shouting over the noise, "and this time, we're going to do it right! My father's reign ends _now_!"

To Amber's surprise and delight, cheers and applause erupted from the crowd. She even thought she heard one or two people try to start a chant of "Long live Queen Amber!", but everyone was too excited to even unite enough to join in.

It was the most beautiful chaos the world had ever seen.

"That is all," Amber told the crowd. "Thank you."

For the first time, Amber Sweet left the stage with cheers and applause in her wake.

~X~

"How'd I do, baby?"

Graverobber turned at the sound of her voice to see Amber approaching him, alone.

"You did well," he replied. "That was mighty impressive…although, I don't recall saying anything about apologizing to the GENterns or Repo-men, or about pardoning the world's current debts."

Amber chuckled. "Oh, come on, I had to throw in _something_ that was my idea," she teased. "If I'm going to be getting advice from you in secret, I'd like what comes of it to at least be _partly_ from me!"

He smiled at her. "Well, in that case, you're certainly not your father," he commented.

She smiled back.

There was silence for a moment.

"When I told the world that my father's reign was over, and they all cheered…" Amber shook her head, smiling, as she relived the memory. "It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen," she told Graverobber. "Thank you for that."

"My pleasure," he replied, a slightly naughty twinkle in his eyes.

She chuckled, "Guess I'd better pay up now, huh?" she teased, giving him her patented nasty smile.

He didn't even have to answer.

~X~

All was not well, however.

Two days after Amber's declarations to the world, a group of a few thousand former Repo-men were gathered on the outskirts of a remote little town, just a few miles away from the shore of the sea in which Sanatarium Island stood. They all stood in full Repo-man regalia - suits, helmets, scalpels, and all - waiting silently in rows like soldiers.

One of them stepped up before them and took off his helmet. His cold, empty eyes swept across the crowd of his fellows once, and then he began to speak.

"We all know why we're here," he began, his voice malicious and dark. "We have been chosen to represent all of our kind, to take a stand for our way of life." He paused to sweep his gaze across the crowd again. "Blood, fear, pain, and death - this is all we know," he said. "It's all we've ever known. It's what we were trained for, groomed for, raised for, _born_ for!"

A few of the Repo-men in the assembly nodded and mumbled their agreement.

"This was fine, when we had a constructive, legal outlet," the speaker went on. "Now, however, we do not." His fists clenched, and the malice in his voice deepened. "Rotti Largo ruined us, destroyed our humanity…and now his daughter thinks she can just drop us on the streets!"

"But what can we do?" asked one of the crowd.

"We can - indeed, we _must_ - avenge ourselves," the leader answered.

"But Rotti's dead!" pointed out another member of the assembly.

"_Rotti_ may be dead," the speaker said, "but his genes still live on in this world."

A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd as the meaning of their leader's words sank in.

"So," the leader said, "what say you we revive an old tradition?" He smiled evilly. "Miss Sweet wants the old world? Well then, let's give her the old world!" He pulled out one of his many knives, raised it over his head, and declared with emphasis and distinction, "This! Means! _War_!"

Everyone in the crowd simultaneously pulled out their own knives and roared their agreement.

The leader turned his back to them to look at the town they were positioned nearby. It was small, but not too small. It was remote, it would be easy to guard, and it would make a perfect base station for an army of guerrilla warfare. It just needed to be a little bit…_emptier_.

"Now," the new leader of the Repo-men said under his breath, "let's go send Her Majesty a message even _she_ can't misunderstand."


	4. Repo vs GeneCo

A week passed. As there were tens of millions of Repo-men across the world, it took days for them all to get ready, even though they were working in complete unison. The small army that had gathered waited to take over the town they meant to use as a base until their comrades across the globe were good to go.

As a result, there were a few days of peace in the world. Amber worked hard to get the world settled into the new order, and the people were following her with gradually increasing enthusiasm. Of course, whenever she needed advice, she went to Graverobber, but, as per their agreement, no one else knew about that…at least, so they thought.

The world began to change, right before Amber's eyes. The new rules for organ repossession were not perfect, of course, but she doubted a truly perfect system for organ repossession could be designed. The idea of surgery as a fashion statement faded a lot faster than Amber had anticipated, and thus, room was made for new concepts, and for growth and learning. When she looked for actual surgeons to work for GeneCo instead of GENterns, she found that a surprising number of people still had some medical know-how, and that they were as grateful as she was for GeneCo's new image.

For a moment - for a brief, beautiful moment - it looked like Rotti's poison was fading rapidly, and that the world would be saved far more quickly than anyone could have imagined…and Amber even found herself thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late for her, either - that maybe she could fix herself, even be happy.

And then the shit hit the fan.

~X~

Naturally, the call came for Amber while she was fucking Graverobber.

She only half-registered the sound when her wrist phone started saying that she had an incoming message - she listened just long enough to learn who was calling so she would know who to kill when she went back to work.

She felt Graverobber hesitate.

"Ignore it, baby," she murmured to him.

He didn't need to be told twice.

Of course, the call still came through.

"Miss Sweet, I'm sorry, I know you're busy, but something extremely urgent has come up!" came the voice of one of her underlings, loud and urgent. "Ma'am, it's about the Repo-men, the ones you fired!"

She hadn't really been listening, but at the words 'Repo-men', Amber froze, her eyes flying open.

"Ma'am, one of them is out front, demanding to see you!" the message continued. "He says he has something for you, and-!"

Amber rolled out from under Graverobber, lunged for her phone, cancelled the message, and called the lackey in question.

"Miss Sweet?" came his voice.

"I got your message - what's going on?" she demanded, if a bit breathlessly.

"Ma'am, the Repo-men…they're declaring war," he replied.

Amber felt her insides go cold. "On who?" she asked through numb lips, though she had a pretty good idea what the answer would be.

"Well…on you," the man on the other end of the line replied.

Amber's eyes widened, and she hung up slowly, moving as though she was in a dream. Her thoughts moved sluggishly, and she was silent for a moment.

"Oh, shit," she finally said, and she quickly got dressed and bolted away. In her hurry, she didn't even bother to give Graverobber a single glance, so she didn't see the smile that was on his face as he watched her go, nor did she hear the words he said under his breath after she had gone:

"Bloodbath…it's gonna be a bloodbath…'cause no one crosses Repo - no, not even GeneCo…" He laughed, a laugh that would have sent chills down a person's spine had anyone been around to hear it. "Time you learned a little lesson, Miss Sweet," Graverobber sneered softly in the direction Amber had gone. "Let's see how you measure up to your father when the chips are down."

He laughed again, his only regret being that he hadn't been able to finish with her before the call had come…

~X~

Things were hectic in the main lobby of GeneCo HQ when Amber arrived. Her henchgirls, who had been looking around - probably for her - were the only ones who were standing still; everyone else was rushing back and forth, calling out things to each other that no one could hear in the chaos and frantically making phone calls left and right.

As her henchgirls marched over to take their positions behind her, Amber stepped into the mayhem and grabbed the arm of the one who had called her, who was rushing around like everyone else.

"What's going on?" she demanded of him in a low voice.

"Ma'am, a former Repo-man showed up at the front door, driving an old body-dump truck," her lackey replied. "He says he's representing all the Repo-men in the world, and-" He broke off, shaking his head. "You need to hear him for yourself," he told her.

She nodded, and without hesitating, she went outside to meet whatever disaster was waiting for her.

A crowd had gathered around the outside of the building, and Amber saw several news cameras in her peripheral vision. What she focused on, though, was the old GeneCo dump truck, which had once been used to clean up the bodies of victims of organ repossession, and the man in the Repo-man uniform who was leaning against it, his helmet under one arm, that were standing right in front of the doors.

"Well, well," said the Repo-man coolly; "look who finally decided to show her high and mighty self." He straightened and took a step towards her. "What kept you?" he asked Amber mockingly, ignoring the two female robots behind her who had readied their guns at his movement. "I've been waiting for…" He shrugged mockingly. "_…mi__nutes_."

"What's this about?" Amber asked coldly.

The Repo-man's smile was cold and mirthless. "Well, I have something for you," he replied. "A gift, along with a message." His twisted mockery of a smile widened. "Let's start with the gift, so I know I have your attention," he hissed, and he unlatched the trunk of the old street-cleaner, which opened under the weight of its load.

Tons and tons of human organs poured out onto the pavement, still bloody and clearly fresh. The dump truck was completely full - even when the organs had stopped piling up, there were clearly still many more inside, blocked by the mound.

Amber gasped in horror even as the smell of death choked her. Exclamations of shock and terror sounded through the crowd of onlookers, and even Amber's henchgirls flinched, though no one noticed.

The Repo-man just smiled his sick, twisted smile.

Amber turned her horrified gaze from the slimy pile to the man who had delivered it. "What the fuck is this?" she asked in a low voice, trying to control the shaking of her body.

The Repo-man grinned and took a deep breath, apparently unbothered by the stench. "Well, Your Royal Highness," he replied, his mocking tone the same as Graverobber's had been a week before as he had uttered the same three words, "this _was_ an entire town."

Amber couldn't catch her breath - not just because the acrid smell of death was overwhelming, but also because of the horror and fear that was pounding through her body. She had never really been into blood and guts, and had avoided the less pleasant aspects of GeneCo her whole life; having so much death shoved in her face all at once was a shock, and a huge one at that.

After a minute of silence, the Repo-man smiled again, took a breath, and began to recite what was obviously a rehearsed speech.

"My name is Matthew," he said. "I am here on behalf of all of my kind, as a messenger." He gave Amber a lethal glare, and while the words were clearly rehearsed, the deadly loathing in his eyes was as real as the pile of organs on the ground beside him. "You see this?" he hissed, gesturing at the grisly load. "This is all we know. Blood, fear, pain, death - this is our life, our legacy. Your father destroyed our humanity - monstrosity is all we have left."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Amber managed to say.

"Just what do you think will be changed by an apology?" the Repo-man named Matthew snarled.

"Nothing," Amber admitted, "but it's all I can do. I can't change what my father did to you."

"Well, that may be, but there is something more you can do," Matthew sneered. "You think you can just drop us and expect that there won't be consequences? When your father's system was in place, we had a constructive, legal outlet for what we were trained to do. Now, you've taken the only thing we had left." He shook his head, loathing and disgust burning in his eyes. "Did you really think we would just step down?" he demanded in a low, dangerous voice. "Did you really think that you could just toss us out on the streets and we wouldn't fight back?"

"Look, I'm sorry for what my father did to you, but it wasn't my fault!" Amber exclaimed. "_I'm_ not the one who corrupted you!"

"Sadly, we can't have the one who did, as he's dead and gone," Matthew responded icily.

"What do you want?" Amber demanded coldly, getting some of her strength back as the shock started to wear off.

"We want nothing, short of your life," Matthew declared in a soft, cold voice. Then he smiled cruelly, pulled out a scalpel, and added, "Come now; surely _you_ aren't afraid of the knife?"

Terror unlike anything she had ever known flooded Amber then. Never before had she feared for her life, but here was a monster trained to kill, holding a knife and declaring a thirst for her blood. Without meaning to, she took a stumbling step back as she tried to make herself breathe. When she did, both of her henchgirls put their hands on her back to keep her from falling, and their touch, though robotic, was somehow a bit reassuring.

"There was a time when you couldn't get enough," Matthew went on.

"Well, those days are over," Amber managed to say, not half as strongly as she would have liked.

He chuckled, then shrugged. "To be fair, we don't just want you," he said; "we are after your brothers, too." His half-amused expression hardened. "_Your family_, is what we want, Miss Sweet," he said, "and we will not rest until all three of you are as dead as your late father."

"Why are you doing this?" Amber exclaimed, finding a small source of strength in her terror. "My brothers and I didn't do this to you!"

"You share the genes of the man who did," Matthew pointed out coldly.

Amber took a deep breath despite the stench, then spoke the words that no one would have ever expected to come out of a Largo's mouth:

"Genes aren't everything."

A few people in the crowd of onlookers gasped and muttered to one another, but Matthew the Repo-man just shrugged. "Perhaps not, but it's all we can have, and we're willing to settle for it," he said. "So long as _any_ part of your father - including his genes - lives on in this world, we will not be at peace. But," he added, "there's no reason for more innocent people to lose their lives. Surrender to us, and no one else will have to die."

"You want me to let you kill me?" Amber asked. As she spoke, a new fear occurred to her: Did she have any good reason to refuse?

Matthew shrugged. "Ultimately, what we want is to be at peace," he said, "and we will not find peace unless we have our revenge…and our revenge can only be found in giving you and your brothers the full Repo treatment."

"And then what will you do?" she asked. Something about her own words nagged at her mind, but it was just out of her mental reach…

Matthew shrugged again. "We have no place in this world," he replied. "We will leave…but not until after we've avenged ourselves."

Suddenly, it clicked, and Amber was able to stand up straight and even take a step forward. "And what happens to the rest of the world then?" she challenged Matthew. "If my brothers and I die, who will run GeneCo? Who will run the world? Who will keep organ failures from wiping out all of mankind?" She crossed her arms and even managed a smirk. "Millions of people still get sick all over the world every day," she told the Repo-messenger. "That epidemic is still going, and it probably always will - and GeneCo is the only thing keeping it from overwhelming our entire race! So if I fall, who'll take the helm? _Someone_ has to be in charge."

Matthew smiled, unperturbed. "What about your consort?" he suggested mockingly.

Amber blinked. "My what?"

"Your necromerchant friend," Matthew said, his predatory smile widening. "You know; the one who _really_ came up with the new world order you're trying to achieve."

Amber's eyes widened.

"Oh, yes, we know about him," Matthew assured her, seeing this. "We know _he's_ the one who's _really_ behind this reform you claim to want to bring about."

Amber's fists clenched as a rage she couldn't understand rose in her chest. "If you do anything to him I swear I'll-!"

"Oh, I assure you, we hold no grudge against your lover," Matthew told her, cutting her off. "We have nothing against necromerchants. But surely, he could take over after we kill you?"

"He doesn't _want_ power!" Amber snapped. She didn't care that a crowd of people - indeed, that the whole _world_ - was watching and listening; this was something that had to be said. "You think it was _my_ idea to take credit for his suggestions? I _offered_ him the throne - he turned it down! He doesn't want to have any association with GeneCo!" She glared at the Repo-man before her. "I asked for his _help_," she snarled. "I realized - _on my own_ - what my father did, and I decided - _on my own_ - that I wanted to change it all; I just didn't have the know-how, because I grew up at the heart of my father's bullshit. Graverobber has always seen things for what they are, so I asked for his _help_."

"And in return you fuck him," Matthew sneered.

Amber shrugged. "Yeah. We fuck. So what? It's not like anyone's getting hurt - like they will be if you wipe out my family!" she pointed out wrathfully.

Matthew took another step towards her. "If you do not surrender to us, then we will go to war against you," he told Amber, his tone and expression deadly serious. "You do know what war is, don't you, Miss Sweet? It's an old world tradition." He smiled cruelly. "A fitting solution, don't you agree?"

Yes, she knew what war was, if only because she'd been studying the old world lately; it was one thing from the old world she hadn't wanted to see return.

"Yes, I know what war is," she replied, "and I know it takes an army. Actually, it takes two. Where will you find yours?"

Matthew's smile was the most chilling thing Amber had ever seen. "Do you not know how many of my kind there are?" he hissed menacingly.

Amber's eyes widened. Surely, he couldn't mean that _all_ of them…?

"There are tens of millions of us across the globe," Matthew said; "one to three for every town, village, and city, as your father decreed. We are all united against you. Every last one of us has been preparing for this since you declared us obsolete. What's more…" His evil smile widened, and he gestured again at the mound of human organs he had essentially dumped on her doorstep. "A few thousand of us have gathered nearby, and we decided to…_appropriate_ a town for a base," he went on. "These people were…in our way."

Amber's horrified expression was mirrored by all the onlookers.

"Our leader is stationed at our new base, as well as our most elite and experienced fellows," Matthew continued. "So you see, Miss Sweet, we already have our army." His smile turned sarcastic as he added, "The _real_ question is, where will _you_ find _yours_?"

"Your leader?" Amber jumped on this tidbit of information. "You have a leader?"

"Oh, yes," Matthew replied. "Quite possibly the most experienced of us all. In fact, he even has _personal_ experience with _you_." He smiled evilly again. "Do you remember Jack Manson?" he asked her. "He was the Repo-man for this city before your father forced Nathan Wallace to take over. He was relocated when you were eight years old, so you may not recall much about him, but he certainly remembers you."

Amber didn't recall any personal memories from her childhood, but she did know about Jack Manson - her father's private records had included extensive details on the man. Hand-picked and personally mentored by her father, Jack Manson had been intensively trained to crave, not just blood, but the thrill of terrorizing and torturing his prey. Unbeknownst to anyone else, Rotti had _deliberately_ turned Jack Manson into a living human nightmare.

In other words, the new leader of the Repo-men was truly the worst of them, and certainly a man to be feared.

"Yes, I know Jack," Amber said softly, working hard not to express her apprehension. "Still, a war takes two armies, and I don't have one. Who will you fight?"

Matthew spread his arms in an all-encompassing gesture, and even before he spoke, Amber knew what the answer would be.

"_Everyone_," he declared.

A collective gasp sounded from the crowd.

"As I said, slaughter is all we know," Matthew said. "Unless you and your brothers surrender yourselves to us, we will continue to do what we were trained for, whether the law is still behind us or not." He smiled again, patting the grisly pile beside him with his gloved hand with what almost could have been called fondness. "You can expect more of these deliveries, for as long as you still breathe," he told Amber.

For all her self-control, all her practice at hardening her heart to any situation, Amber couldn't fully suppress a shudder of horror. Apart from that, everyone present was as still as death, silent as the grave.

"Speaking of which: You'd better get to work preserving these, if you don't want them to go bad," Matthew added after a moment.

Amber blinked, unable to respond - what could she say?

Matthew chuckled, the sound sending chills of fear down Amber's spine. "Refuse our gift, and several thousand human beings' worth of organs go to waste," he taunted Amber; "accept our gift, and you will appear to condone what we've done. What do you choose?"

"I choose what's right," Amber replied in a low voice.

"Then do you surrender to us?" Matthew asked with soft malice. "Or will you let more people end up like this?"

Amber took a breath. For all her past mistakes, for all the justifications for what the Repo-men were asking of her, for all the horror of what they were threatening, she knew what her answer had to be.

"If this was just about me and you, or my family and your people, I would give you what you are asking for," Amber replied. "That is to say, I would surrender myself - you would have to speak with my brothers separately. However, this isn't just about us. As the head of GeneCo, I have a responsibility to the world - to both the people you are threatening to harm _and_ the ones who would escape your campaign of terror. As I said before, if I fall, GeneCo falls with me, and if GeneCo falls, mankind is doomed. It would be irresponsible and selfish of me to surrender to your threats, and I have been both for far too long. I cannot give you what you ask." She sighed and allowed her expression to soften. "I'm sorry," she said. "I am sorry for your plight, and I am truly sorry for what my father did to you and your people…but just because he hurt you doesn't mean that anyone else has to suffer. Please, don't do this. Don't make more people pay for my father's sins."

Her plea was completely heartfelt and not meant as a manipulative tactic, so she couldn't have predicted just how much her words would turn the spotlight from herself to the Repo-messenger before her, but that's just what they did. Matthew's smug expression faltered as everyone's gaze turned to him, and he even took a step back.

"I cannot speak for our leader; I am only a messenger," he finally said. "I can, however, speak for myself, and for myself I say, again, it is all I know. It is all I have."

"It doesn't have to be this way!" Amber exclaimed, momentarily losing control of her emotions.

"Yes it does," Matthew stated flatly. "Thanks to your father, a monster is all I can ever be. It's all any of my kind can ever be. And as you have refused to cooperate with us, the war between GeneCo and Repo begins now."

Amber closed her eyes. "So be it," she said in a hollow tone of voice, and she made a gesture to the female guards behind her.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, hold on!" Matthew exclaimed mockingly, holding up his hands in a twisted imitation of a gesture of surrender. "Don't shoot the messenger, Miss Sweet, unless you want to be like your father!"

"I'm not shooting a messenger," Amber said coldly; "I'm shooting a monster who has promised to kill innocent people." With that, she snapped her fingers dramatically.

Matthew didn't have a chance to do more than blink before two bullets sliced through his brain.

Amber turned to the cameras. "Let that be my message to _all_ the Repo-men out there," she declared as the former Repo-man fell: "If it's war you want, then it's war you'll get. I may not have a whole army behind me, but I have guards who know how to shoot, and I have the resources to hunt you all down, no matter how well you try to hide. I have a duty to the people of the world, and I will hold to it." She lowered her voice dangerously. "If you still have any will to live, or any humanity left in you, I advise you to stand down," she said, and with that she turned around and went back inside.

She took a few moments to arrange to have all the organs Matthew had delivered that could be salvaged sorted through and preserved for use; while the slaughter horrified her, she couldn't let a few thousand people's worth of organs go to waste in good conscience. She then handed over control to her executive employees, went straight to her room, ordered her henchgirls to stand outside the door and ensure that no one disturb her, and shut herself inside.

To her relief, Graverobber had managed to slip away in the confusion, so she was alone. She closed the curtains of the windows that gave her a view of the entire city - _her_ entire city - so that she would have complete solitude, lay down in her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and then, and only then, did she finally allow herself to surrender to what she was feeling and cry, shedding the tears she had unknowingly been withholding for twenty years. As her sobs, muffled by her pillow, racked her shoulders, only one thought - one desperate question - screamed in her mind:

_When will this nightmare end?_

If any higher power heard her, they gave her no answer.


	5. Betrayed

As a global war was a problem of epic proportions, Amber couldn't waste too much time feeling sorry for herself. She gave herself ten minutes, then went out to find Graverobber, her advisor. She couldn't wait until later to see him, and besides, she had the urge to move, so she went looking, alone.

She found him walking down one of the darker, more remote back alleys of the city, naturally.

"Graverobber!" she called after him.

He stopped and turned to her, an odd expression on his face.

"So," he said as she approached him, "the Repo-men have declared war on the world. I must say, I didn't quite see that coming."

"Yeah, me either," Amber said. "Now what do we do about it?"

"'We'?" Graverobber repeated, raising an eyebrow at her. "I do believe this is _your_ problem, Miss Sweet, not mine."

"Everyone knows you're involved now, so yes, it is your problem," Amber pointed out.

"The people know that _a_ necromerchant is involved," Graverobber corrected; "they don't know which one. I may be the only necromerchant in this city, but I'm far from the only one in the world." He shrugged. "Besides which, not many people know that there's only one necromerchant per community."

Amber sighed. "I'm sorry I had to admit your involvement like that," she told him. "I know we had a deal, but-"

"No, it's fine," Graverobber reassured her. "You did the right thing. The show of honesty went over well with the general public, as I'm sure you knew it would."

Amber nodded…then realized what he'd said.

"Wait…" she said slowly. "What do you mean, you didn't '_quite_' see this coming?"

Graverobber was silent and didn't meet her eyes.

"You set me up," she said softly as the realization hit her.

Graverobber sighed. "Amber, I assure you, I didn't anticipate anything of even _half_ this magnitude," he said.

"But you _did_ set me up, didn't you?" Amber snarled, her rage breaking through the initial shock.

Graverobber closed his eyes. His silence was answer enough.

"_You fucking son of a bitch_!" Amber shouted, stepping up to him. "_You set me up_!" She punched him on the jaw, putting all her rage, fear, and pain behind the blow.

Graverobber didn't even try to evade the punch. It sent him stumbling backward, and the look in his eyes told Amber that he'd underestimated her strength, but he still didn't fight back.

He sighed again. "Not for this," he said. "I did not mean to set you up for this."

"_You_…!" Amber had never been more furious in her life. Strangely, she also felt hurt, though she wasn't quite sure why; still, the pain fueled her wrath even more. She shook with rage, her fists and jaw clenched tight, as she searched for the words that would express what she was feeling.

"_You fucking cunt_!" she finally shrieked, and she kicked him in the groin, hard.

He grunted in pain and doubled over, and Amber was sadistically satisfied at the sight.

"I didn't mean for this to happen!" he managed to say through gritted teeth.

"Too fucking bad!" she snarled. "I may have tried to word things so that I took the blame for what the Repo-men are doing, but I can take that back easily. I _will_ make this your problem."

"You can't do that," he growled, still struggling to stand.

"And why not?" she snapped.

He looked up at her then, and his icy glare matched her burning rage. "We had a deal," he said coldly.

"Fuck that!" Amber snarled. "You fucking set me up! Did you really think I was going to let you get away with it?"

"You _will_ honor our agreement," Graverobber told her dangerously, straightening up.

"Give me one good reason why I should!" Amber shouted.

"Oh, I'll do better than that - I'll give you two," he replied coolly. "One: You knew the potential consequences for taking the credit - in fact, _you_ were even the one who spelled it out, not me - yet you still agreed to do it. Two: Your father broke all the rules in his campaign to take over the world, and I know how much you don't want to be like him."

Amber glared at him silently, too angry to admit he was right, but too afraid of being like her father to break their deal anyway.

He sighed again. "I did not mean to put your life at risk," he told her, "at least not to this extent. I had a feeling that there would be some…_discontent_, among the former Repo-men, but I didn't expect anything close to this magnitude. How could I have? I didn't know anything about what they were trained to be, nor did I know they were so organized."

"What did you think you were setting me up for, if not to get killed?" Amber asked coldly.

"To learn a lesson," Graverobber replied; "one any ruler of the world should know: that there are consequences for every decision you make. I had a feeling your father didn't teach you that lesson, as he seemed to not know it himself."

"I think he knew," Amber said. "I think he just didn't care."

"That's likely," Graverobber admitted, nodding. "Still, I had a feeling that it was a lesson you yourself had yet to learn."

Amber nodded; he had a point. She then closed her eyes, remembering the pact that she and Graverobber had made…

~X~

"There isn't much I can't give you, since I basically rule the world," she had pointed out. "So what do you want?"

"Just to clarify: What is it exactly that you're asking of me?" he had asked her.

"I'll pay your price, whatever it might be," she had said, "and in return, you fix things."

"I don't want power," he had said.

"Well then, you help _me_ fix things," she had revised. "I'll run the world, and when I need help, I'll come to you for advice. Okay?"

He had looked at her for a long time. She had waited patiently - a difficult feat for her, but one she had known was necessary.

"First of all," he had finally said, "if I do this for you, I don't want to be turned into one of your lackeys."

"You can do whatever you want, baby," she had assured him.

"That means I want no public association with you _or_ GeneCo," he had told her sternly.

"But how am I supposed to give you credit for advising me?" she had asked, confused.

"You're not," he had replied coldly.

She had blinked at those words. "You want me to take credit for your ideas?" she had asked.

He had nodded.

She'd thought about that for a minute, wondering what he could possibly gain from such a deal. Then it had hit her.

"If something you suggest doesn't go over well, this means I'll have to be the one to take the heat for it," she had said with realization.

He had blinked, then smiled and nodded again. "There's that, too," he had admitted, apparently almost impressed that Amber had thought of that. "Mainly, though, I prefer to be out of the limelight - that's more your scene, anyway."

She had smiled back. "That's fair," she had said. "Done. Anything else?"

"Yes," he had replied; "second, I want immunity."

"Done," she had said.

"For _all_ of my kind," he had added dangerously.

She had blinked. "You want me to legalize grave-robbing _without_ letting anyone know that I'm doing it for you?" she had asked. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"That's your problem, not mine," he had said with a cruel smile.

She had smiled back, understanding what he was doing - making her life harder for no particular reason._ I suppose it's only fair,_ she had thought. _After all, I guess I've been doing the same thing to him for five years._

"Done," she had said. "Anything else?"

"One more thing," he had said, and she had recognized the glint in his eyes. "Just one: I want _you_."

She had smiled her patented nasty smile. "I had a feeling that would come into the deal somewhere," she had teased him. "Done."

"And when I say you, I mean _all_ of you," he had added dangerously.

"In other words, no more sleeping around?" she had asked, still smiling nastily. "Fair enough."

"Good," he had said, and he held out his hand. "Deal?"

"Deal," she had said without hesitation, shaking his hand. "Now, tell me what to do."

He'd smiled wickedly at her then. "Oh, Amber," he had said, shaking his head slightly, his hand still gripping hers; "you _know_ I don't take IOUs."

At the time, she had laughed and let him have his way with her, completely oblivious to what he'd really been planning…

~X~

Amber sighed. "I will honor our agreement," she conceded. "I'll take the heat for this, as I agreed to do."

"Good," Graverobber said.

Amber opened her eyes. "Now, what should I do?" she asked him.

"I repeat: This is not my problem," Graverobber said coolly.

Amber smiled mockingly. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought we had a deal," she said mockingly. "I meet all your terms, and in return, when I need help, you advise me."

Graverobber blinked.

She smirked. "Well, Graverobber, I need your help," she said. "So, what should I do?"

He sighed, conceding. She smiled.

"Well, I suppose that depends on what you want the outcome to be," he answered her after a minute.

"No," she said flatly. "Don't give me any ambiguous bullshit. What should I do?"

"What do you want?" he asked in reply.

"I just want all this to end!" she cried, at her wit's end.

"Well, there's another life lesson for you," Graverobber said: "You can't always get what you want."

She glared at him, but had no reply.

"As you've already declared that you won't give yourself up to the Repo-men, the loss of innocent lives is inevitable," Graverobber told her. "You have no army, and your influence is spread too thin for you to fully protect the people of the world."

"What should I do to minimize casualties?" Amber asked him sternly.

He told her.

She nodded. "That makes sense," she said. "Thanks for that. Goodbye."

"Well, now, hold on," he said as she turned her back and started to walk away.

She stopped, but didn't turn around.

He walked up behind her. "We're not done here," he hissed in her ear.

She did turn to him then. "Oh, you wouldn't dare," she snarled.

"We had a deal, Amber," he said dangerously.

"Ha!" she spat. "I _dare_ you! I _dare_ you to touch me against my will!"

"Since when is it possible to touch you 'against your will'?" he asked contemptuously, making air quotes around the words, and Amber wondered if he knew about the two times people had tried to rape her and failed by virtue of her not caring.

That had been her past self, though - a person she had left behind. "Since you pissed me off," she snapped, and she started to walk away again.

He caught her arm.

She turned back to him again, glaring. "Let go of me," she said in a low, dangerous voice.

"No," he replied icily. "I am going to have you, here and now, and you are going to let me, because we had a deal, and you are going to hold to it."

Still giving him a lethal glare, Amber tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp, but he was too strong. He gave her an evil smile reminiscent of Matthew the Repo-man.

"Welcome to my world, bitch," he sneered.

Amber blinked, her anger draining away at the implications of this. "Was I really this horrible to you?" she asked him softly.

"Worse," he spat.

She closed her eyes, guilt flooding through her.

"Okay," she sighed. "Fine."

The words were barely out of her mouth before he was on her. She didn't resist.


	6. Calling on the People

Amber called another press conference that night. _There's no way out, and only one means of protecting the people,_ she thought gravely. _I just hope it can work…_

This time, everyone knew why she was calling the conference, so there was no clamoring for her attention when the cameras went on. Instead, she was met with a dead silence…which, hopefully, was purely metaphorical and not an omen of what was to come.

Amber stepped up in front of the world and began to speak.

"You all know what this is about," she said; "the former Repo-men of GeneCo have declared war." She took a breath. "Before I say anything else, I must express my remorse that things have to be this way. I did not want this to happen. Be that as it may, I take full responsibility for the present circumstances." She paused, but no one made a sound.

"While the end of my family is the true aim of the Repo-men, they will come after everyone," she finally went on. "As in the days of my father, the Repo-men will haunt the streets, terrorizing, torturing, and killing innocent people. The only difference is, this time, no one is safe. They will kill anyone and everyone, no matter who they may find…or, at least, so they think."

At this, some muttering started to come from the crowd, but Amber ignored them.

"The truth is, there is another difference this time," she went on: "This time, they do not have the law on their side. They have no fallback, no defense for their actions, and any Repo-men who are found will be put to death on the spot. My father may have trained them in stealth and tracking, but last time, they had all the resources GeneCo could provide at their disposal. This time, they are on their own, and they are going against the sources they once used." She swept her gaze across the crowd, trying to meet as many eyes as she could. "My guards, all over the world, will put everything we have towards hunting them down and killing them before they can hurt any more innocent people," she said. "Furthermore, I myself will be working my hardest to find where they've stationed their elite group and take Jack Manson out. When the leader falls, the rest should fall with him, and those who do not will be hunted down and killed regardless."

She took a deep breath, then played her last card.

"My guards and I cannot, however, do this alone," she said; "and so, people of the world, I must call upon you." She turned her head to meet everyone's gaze again. "Fight back," she told the world. "If a Repo-man comes after you, do not allow yourselves to be taken. Go nowhere without some means of protecting yourself, and if you find yourself in danger, _fight back_." She paused again, letting what she was saying sink in, her expression and tone gravely serious. "You are not GeneCo's pets," she told the people of the world. "You are not zombies. You are not sheep. You are human beings. You have strength, you have free will, and you have the right to live." She closed her eyes momentarily and sighed. "By the time my father died, no one ever stood up to the Repo-men," she said. "No one fought for that right anymore. I do not know how we managed to get to that point, but it doesn't have to be that way, nor can be it that way any longer." She opened her eyes. "_Fight back_," she proclaimed again. "Fight back, and together, we can put an end to this nightmare. I will fight with you, each and every one of you - I will not let this go on. Join me, and fight to live. It is my dearest hope that this will end soon." She bowed her head. "Thank you," she said, "that is all."

As she turned and left, the reporters called after her, but she ignored them.

~X~

Amber held to her own proclamation, and all guards employed by GeneCo began a manhunt for the former Repo-men of the world, all across the globe. She put a great deal of resources into finding out the most likely base stations for the elite group of Repo-men that Matthew had mentioned, working hard to recall every detail of what the Repo-messenger had said and put them to use. She put funds into providing the people with the means to defend themselves. Her entire job as the head of GeneCo became about the war with the Repo-men.

After just five more days, losses were already mounting all over the planet. Some of the Repo-men did indeed fall, if none at the hands of the common people, but many more innocents numbered among the tens of thousands of casualties that were reported every day. The Repo-men made no attempt to hide the numbers of the people they slaughtered; indeed, at a regular time around the world, they would dump one organ from everyone they had killed at the front door of the nearest GeneCo office building. Even on Sanatarium Island, people died day after day. Indeed, the island was, ironically, the least safe place in the world, as that was where the group of Repo-elites hunted, if only at night.

When the fear of the Repo-men held a secure grip on the people, Jack Manson made his next move: He forcibly called a press conference of his own, of sorts. In other words, he hijacked the global news networks, and through them, gave a message to the world.

"People of the world," he greeted everyone. Even in places where his face wasn't displayed, his voice managed to reach everyone on the planet. "I imagine you know who I am, but I shall tell you anyway: My name is Jack Manson, and I am responsible for the Repo-men of the world.

"By now, you are all aware of the…unfortunate dispositions, of my kind. Many people have died of late, and by our hands. We are doing this to send Her Majesty, Amber Sweet, a message; but now, I have a message for all of you. You see, while hunting and killing is all we know, we hold no grudge against the common people. Instead, we sympathize with you; after all, you, like us, were victims of Rotti Largo's reign. You, too, deserve to be avenged, for what Rotti took or tried to take from you. The blood we shed is as much his responsibility as it is ours, for even after his death, we are slaves to his visions for the world.

"Miss Sweet has called upon all of you to join her in fighting my kind. I now make a similar plea: Common people of the world, join _my_ kind in avenging the wrongs done - to _all_ of us - by the Largo family! You all have as much of a right to revenge as we do, and we offer you the chance to have it. Join us, and you will not come to harm; we would not be so foolish as to harm those who would help us. Amber called on all of you to fight back - I call upon you to do the same! Fight back, against the family that drove this world to chaos! Fight back, against the tyranny of the Largo family and the empire of GeneCo! Join us, and avenge all those who have fallen, as well as all of you who still live! Fight with us, stand by our side, and we will have justice for the corruption that ruled this world for so long!"

There was a pause. Then he added, "And GENterns…As you, like us, are not welcome in this world, you are welcome to join us any time you wish. I cannot tell you where we are now, but we will find you, and offer you places by our sides. You needn't fear us…and we would appreciate the companionship."

With an evil laugh, Jack Manson thus ended his speech and cut the feed. No one was ever able to trace it back to him.

~X~

Never before had the world been faced with such a choice. For decades, free will and thinking for oneself had been frowned on, and the people were sorely out of practice. Everyone was indecisive on the matter. Those who felt like supporting GeneCo feared that they were merely continuing to be slaves to Rotti's influence; those who felt like supporting Repo feared that they had simply been corrupted so badly that human life meant nothing to them anymore. Moral standards had crumbled during Rotti's reign of chaos, and so soon after the shackles were broken, the people simply weren't ready to face such a choice as the one they were presented with. No one could decide what to do.

No one knew for sure how, or where, it started. No one knew who was the first to say it, who was the first to think it. When it reached the media, it spread across the globe like wildfire, and within the space of a day after that first media contact with it, the people had found an anchor to cling to in the uncomfortably new sea of freedom that they now found themselves in, and the planet itself seemed to cry out the question that would determine the fate of the world:

_What would Shilo choose?_


	7. Shilo

But where was Shilo?

Well, after the catastrophic opera night that had set her free through a baptism of blood, she had decided that she wanted nothing more than to leave the island and never return. Between the new, horrific connotations of home and her long-held dream of seeing the world, Shilo had no desire to spend one more moment in the city where she had grown up. So, she had gathered her family inheritance - Nathan Wallace had been paid well for his services as the local Repo-man, so it was a healthy amount of money that Shilo found left to her - and just started traveling.

Since then, she had been essentially blowing around with the wind, not staying in one place for more than a day or two at a time. She wanted to see it all - the whole world - and besides, staying in one place for very long always made her think of how she had once been trapped at home. _"Chase the morning; yield for nothing"_… The words of her mother - the only words of Marni's that she knew of - rang in her ears, day and night, and she was determined to follow them, no matter what.

At first, she wasn't given much peace, as everyone recognized her no matter where she went, and for a few, horrible days, she had even contemplated getting surgery to change her appearance. Luckily, once her body managed to flush the last of her father's poison from her system, her hair started to grow back, and as soon as it was just long enough to cover her scalp, she ditched her wig for good. Her natural hair, as it turned out, wasn't straight - it was curly, like her mother's had been - and between that and the fact that it was even shorter than most boys' hair, no one recognized her anymore. Thus relieved of the need to do something drastic just to be left alone, Shilo had managed to find peace, and even some small amount of happiness, in her new life of freedom.

When Amber had announced the new world order she wanted to bring about, to say that Shilo was pleasantly surprised would have been the understatement of the remarkable century. After what she'd seen of Amber the night of the opera, she had expected essentially the opposite of the GeneCo heiress. Of course, she had felt bad about leaving GeneCo to be run by Rotti's kids, as her father's dying wish had been that she change the world, but Amber's reform relieved Shilo of her guilt.

Even traveling constantly, the change in the world as Amber's new rules took hold was very evident to Shilo, and she was very happy with what she saw. After a few days, she revisited places she had been before, just to see the difference, and by the time a week had gone by, she barely recognized them.

And then, of course, as it had for everyone else, the shit hit the fan.

Shilo knew that traveling all over the place, all by herself, was dangerous once the war started up, but she had nowhere to go; indeed, she didn't _want_ to have somewhere to go, didn't _want_ to have a place to call home. _"Chase the morning; yield for nothing"…Yield for _nothing_ - not even a global war,_ she kept telling herself. Despite the risk of her solitary traveling, however, she managed to escape harm.

Then the people turned to her for guidance.

When she saw the question being asked across the globe blaring on the front of every newspaper, repeatedly being asked on every news channel, Shilo's initial reaction was to hide. She didn't want to have any part of GeneCo's mess anymore. Naturally, her wish was no one's command, and it wasn't long before she was unable to escape the sound of the people calling on her for help, no matter where she went, and no matter what she did.

At last, after three days in hiding, the call came for her.

"Incoming message, from 'Amber Sweet'…Incoming message, from 'Amber Sweet'…"

Though she had been half-expecting the call, when it came, it filled her with dread. Still, she knew she had to answer it.

"Shilo, I know you want to have nothing to do with me, or any of what's going on, but I need to speak with you," said Amber's voice. "Please, wherever you are, come see me as soon as you can."

Shilo sighed, hanging up. She wanted to say no, but she knew she had no choice.

_Home, then,_ she thought resignedly; _to where the horror is…_


	8. Jack's Plea

Just less than a month and a half after the night of the opera, Shilo stood on the shore, looking across the channel to where Sanatarium Island stood. While the ruin that had once surrounded the city had been undergoing repairs lately, the city looked the same to her as it had the night she'd taken one last look at it before walking away: dark, and dismal, and terrifying.

She didn't want to be there. She had thought she would never be there again, that her last glimpse of the place would be the last she would ever have. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and flee the very sight of it.

But people were dying, and her wish was no one's command; somehow, again, she had ended up in the middle of things, and walking away wasn't an option.

She sighed and stepped forward.

What happened next happened so fast that she had no time to react. Someone grabbed her from behind - a gloved hand went over her mouth - she felt something pierce her shoulder - and then…everything went black.

~X~

Slowly, Shilo opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry; she could only make out a few indistinct shapes. She blinked to clear her sight, realizing as she did so that she was lying on the ground.

A few Repo-men came into focus.

She gasped in fear and tried to back away and sit up at the same time.

"Shh…don't be afraid," one of them said soothingly, crouching down to her eye level and holding out a hand to her in a calming gesture. "We won't hurt you."

"You won't hurt me?" Shilo repeated incredulously, trying not to scream with terror. "Is that what you tell all of them?"

There was the sound of a few men chuckling, and Shilo looked around to see an entire crowd of Repo-men standing in front of her.

"No," said the Repo-man who had spoken, "we always make sure our prey know they're going to die…but you are not our prey." He put his hands on his Repo-man helmet and lifted it off his head.

The face that was revealed was mostly unremarkable. In fact, for the most part, the Repo-man looked like any ordinary guy. His skin was unblemished, his face was clean-shaven, and his hair - which had clearly once been black - was streaked gray and white with the beginnings of age; he looked like he might be a little younger than Shilo's father had been. His eyes, however, were another story. They were a dark gray, sharp as the blade of a scalpel, and chilling as frozen steel. They were almost the eyes of a newly-dead corpse - cold and empty and devoid of any warmth or feeling.

Shilo had never met this man, but she had seen his face before, once, when it had been proclaiming a message to the world.

"You're Jack Manson," she said. It wasn't a question.

He nodded, handing his Repo-man helmet to one of the others who were standing beside him. "I am," he said; "and you're Shilo Wallace."

She nodded.

He stood up and held out his hand to her. She met his eyes coldly and stood on her own, without accepting his help.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement of her show of distrust.

"How did you know who I was?" Shilo asked the head of the Repo-men as she brushed herself off.

"My men have been keeping an eye on you," Jack replied.

"You've been following me," Shilo half-asked, still keeping her tone guarded.

"Not with the intent to harm you," Jack admitted, "but yes."

There was silence for a minute. Shilo met Jack Manson's gaze without flinching, refusing to show him any fear.

At last, he sighed. "The last time I saw you in person, you were only a few days old," he said, almost wistfully. "It's amazing how far we've come. Who would have thought we would ever get here, that it would come to this?"

As he spoke, Shilo thought she saw something stir behind his eyes, but she couldn't be sure.

She said nothing.

"Welcome to our home base," Jack went on after a moment. "Thank you for coming."

"You kidnapped me," Shilo stated flatly.

Jack sighed again. "Would you have come if we had asked you nicely?" he asked her.

"No," Shilo admitted, still careful not to let down her guard.

Jack nodded. "I was thanking you for returning home, not for coming to see us personally," he told her. "I was thanking you for acknowledging the present…unfortunate circumstances."

Shilo said nothing.

"You do know why you're here, yes?" Jack asked her. "The people of the world have turned to you for guidance in the present war. Her Royal Highness summoned you so that she could speak her piece; I brought you here so that I could speak mine." When he said the words 'Her Royal Highness', a spark of disdain ignited in his eyes, and his cold voice became laced with sarcasm.

Shilo still said nothing.

"I apologize for the underhanded means I used to bring you here," Jack went on. "I'm afraid I couldn't risk letting you know exactly where it is we are. Not that I don't want to be able to trust you," he added with what looked like a twisted attempt at a smile that didn't at all reach his eyes, "but if you knew, you would have a moral obligation to reveal our hiding place, and if Miss Sweet finds us, well, that would be that…so I relieved you of that dilemma."

"Gee, thanks," Shilo said sarcastically. "I appreciate it."

Jack sighed again. "Shilo, I do not expect you to pity us," he said, "but we did not choose this life. We did not want this; it was forced upon us, and we would leave it all behind if we could."

Some movement in the crowd caught Shilo's eye, and she noticed some of the Repo-men making small nods and gestures of agreement. She was still careful not to let her guard down, but she couldn't help but feel a tiny stirring of compassion for them in her heart; clearly, they really didn't want to be where they were…and if there was anyone who knew a thing or two about what it felt like to be trapped, it was her.

"You said you know me," Shilo finally said, turning her gaze back to the group's leader.

"Well, to say that I _know_ you would be more than a bit of a stretch, but I have met you in person before, yes," Jack replied.

Shilo opened her mouth to ask how that could be, but he beat her to it.

"Shilo, I knew your father," he told her. He sighed, turning his gaze to the ground, then added, "In fact, I was…his mentor."

"You taught him how to kill people," Shilo said coldly; it was far from a question.

Jack nodded, meeting her eyes again. "Yes," he confessed; "I trained your father, just as Rotti trained me."

Shilo didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to hear about her father's lies, about what he'd really been doing when he told her he'd been helping people…

"Shilo…" Jack Manson took a step towards her. Then, before Shilo could even take a step back, he got down on his knees, reached out with both of his hands, and took both of hers in a gentle grip. "I don't expect you to join us for our sake," he told her, looking up into her eyes. "I just ask that you please hear what I have to tell you."

Shilo looked uncertainly from him to the assembly of like-uniformed men. "Do I have a choice?" she asked.

"Of course you do, Shilo," Jack said, and his voice, which had been cold and flat like a blade of ice, softened with remorse and humanity. Likewise, the frozen steeliness of his eyes gave way to a soft, pleading honesty. "If you will not hear me, I will take you back home right now, unharmed," he told her. "You will not come to any harm by our hands or our blades, no matter what happens; you have my word."

Shilo glanced around uncomfortably, unsure whether or not she should trust him. He himself had declared himself and his people to be monsters, yet here he was, on his knees, begging her with the desperation of a human being who was simply lost and alone.

"Please, Shilo," he pleaded softly.

Shilo took a deep, shaking breath, then nodded. "Okay," she said, looking down to meet his eyes.

The gratitude she saw there was very, very real. "Thank you, Shilo," he said.

She nodded again, but said nothing.

Jack took a breath.

"I'm not sure how much you know," he told her, "but I do know that Rotti gave you less than half the facts, so if I tell you something you already know, please bear with me."

She nodded again.

"Your mother, Marni, once dated Rotti Largo," Jack began. "They were even engaged to be married at one point. Why that was, I do not know; I imagine Rotti worked hard to put on a good appearance for her." He shook his head slightly in disgust. "At any rate, her relationship with Rotti ended when she met your father. She left Rotti for Nathan on the spot, and nothing Rotti said or did could convince her to return to him." He gave Shilo a twisted half-smile. "She didn't care that he ruled the world, or that he saved mankind," he told Shilo; "she didn't want Rotti's money, or his power. What mattered to her was the one thing Rotti Largo couldn't give her: love…and Shilo, your parents were _very deeply_ in love." He paused, sighing.

Shilo remained silent.

"Your parents' marriage was a happy one, from what I heard from your father," Jack continued, "and when your mother became pregnant with you, I'm told they were both overjoyed. It seemed as though you would be a happy family…but, late in her pregnancy, your mother became deathly ill." Here, Jack paused again to look deeply into Shilo's eyes, and Shilo could see nothing but honesty there. "At the time, your father was a doctor, and a good man," Jack told her. "He was a _brilliant_ man; I hold nothing but the highest regard for who he was. When your mother fell ill, he tried to develop a cure that would save her, and he told me, more than once, how he worked very, _very_ hard on it, day and night, for he loved his wife deeply."

Shilo still didn't say anything, but Jack must have felt it as her hands started to tremble. This wasn't at all what she had expected to hear.

"No one knows what went wrong," Jack continued; "or, if they do, they aren't telling. Somewhere along the line, however, your father…made a mistake." He sighed. "The medicine that he gave your mother, instead of saving her, killed her all the faster. In desperation, he had to cut you out of her as she lay there dying, in order to save you; there was nothing that could be done for her."

Shilo tried to swallow past the painful lump that was forming in her throat, fighting back tears; this was not at all how she had thought things had happened…

"Shilo, your mother's death was an accident, and a well-intended one at that," Jack told her softly. "No sooner did your father save you, however, than Rotti appeared. It was almost as though he had _known _what would happen - as if he had been _waiting_ for disaster to strike. It _was_ an accident, but when Rotti said murder…" He shook his head disgustedly. "Well, no one ever questioned the word of Rotti Largo," he said, and the icy blades of his eyes froze up again. His grip on Shilo's hands tightened, almost painfully, and he seemed like he was fighting back a powerful impulse, though to do what, Shilo didn't dare imagine.

She let him take a moment to calm down. When he spoke again, however, his tone was once more cold and flat, and his eyes, likewise, were once again lifeless; the humanity Shilo had seen stirring inside of Jack Manson had vanished, just like that.

"Rotti then blackmailed your father," Jack continued darkly. "He threatened to send your father to jail, even to have him put to death, for the murder of your mother, and thereby leave you alone or worse, unless…"

"Unless my father became the Repo-man," Shilo finished softly.

Jack nodded. "Your father joined us for your sake, Shilo, and for your sake alone," he said. "He didn't want to - indeed, the very thought horrified him - but he couldn't let you be abandoned, left to die, or worse, to grow up on the streets. He did what he had to do, to protect you and take care of you, and to keep you safe." His eyes softened again. "I saw him with you, once or twice, when you were a newborn…" He shook his head again, this time with a strange sadness. "The way he cared for you was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Shilo took a few, shaking breaths. "Did you know my father was poisoning me?" she asked Jack.

"No," Jack replied. "I had no idea…though I must say, I don't blame him. On the contrary, I respect him all the more, for having the strength, foresight, and ingenuity needed to keep you safe from Rotti's influence."

There was silence for a minute.

"And Shilo, there's one more thing you need to know," Jack finally continued: "In spite of all the reasons why it was necessary for your father to join us, it wasn't enough on its own to give him the ability to torture and kill people."

Shilo blinked.

Jack sighed, not breaking eye contact with her. "I supervised your father's training, and his first kills," he said. "I mentored him, told him what was expected of him, as one of us…and by the time I relocated and left the city at his mercy, he had developed split personality - an alter ego."

"I know what split personality is," Shilo managed to say.

Jack nodded. "Well, that's what happened to your father," he told Shilo. "It was the only way he could cope with what he had to do. I saw it happen to him, Shilo - watched the monster develop in him, separate from the man he really was. By the time he and I parted ways, there were two people living inside your father's body: There was the real Nathan Wallace, your father - a good, kind, caring man; and there was the monster, the Repo-man, the beast who, like the rest of my kind, thirsted for blood. That monster was what killed those people, not your father. I witnessed the two sides of Nathan Wallace myself. Sometimes, he would be slaughtering someone brutally, looking like he was having the time of his life - even playing with the corpses after he was done extracting the organs…and then, all of a sudden, a complete change would come over him; he would get this expression on his face that very clearly said, 'Oh my god, what have I done?'" Jack sighed again, and the pain Shilo saw in his eyes was real. "Only Rotti Largo could have made your father hurt people," he said, "and he did…but it was not your father's choice."

Shilo closed her eyes and nodded, struggling not to cry. She felt, rather than saw, Jack stand back up, as he didn't let go of her hands.

When at last she had gotten ahold of herself, and she knew she could speak without breaking, Shilo opened her eyes and met Jack's gaze again.

"Thank you," she managed.

Jack nodded.

There was silence for another minute.

"Now, Shilo, none of us have half so noble a story as your father," Jack finally continued. "Still, Rotti ruined all of us, just as surely as he ruined Nathan Wallace…and it is for your father's sake, if not ours, that I ask you to take our side in this conflict."

Shilo stiffened; she had almost forgotten why Jack Manson had been telling her all this in the first place.

"Please, help us, Shilo," Jack begged her softly, closing his hands around hers in a pleading gesture of helpless desperation. "Help us avenge ourselves, and together we shall also avenge your father. Join us. Exact your revenge on the Largo family, for what Rotti did to your father…and to you."

Shilo met Jack's gaze steadily. "And then what?" she asked him, not unkindly. "What will you do then?"

Jack sighed. "Then, hopefully, we will be able to attain some modicum of peace," he said. "After that…well, we have no place in this world, really. We are monsters; brutal slaughter is all we know, all we can do…so when we have avenged ourselves, we will leave this world. We'll be ready, then."

"And after that?" asked Shilo. "What happens to the world if the Largos fall? Amber still had a point - someone has to run GeneCo."

"Won't you do it?" Jack asked her pleadingly.

"No!" Shilo exclaimed, pulling her hands out of the Repo-man's grip. "I won't! I don't want any part of any of this!" Tears filled her eyes, dangerously close to spilling over and down her cheeks.

Jack sighed, and Shilo knew she wasn't imagining the sympathy in his gaze. "I'm sorry," he said to her. "I know it's a lot to ask of you, especially as you are still a child. But Shilo…with great power comes great responsibility; and, whether you like it or not, you have a great power."

"What power?" Shilo demanded tearfully.

"The power of love," Jack replied softly. "The power of compassion, of integrity, of decency, of kindness…of all the things Rotti tried to wipe off the face of this Earth. Shilo, you are the only good person left in the world - an angel dwelling among wretches. You have a responsibility to use your goodness to lead this world out of the darkness, for you are the one and only light in this dark, endless, suffocating night. And also…" His gaze softened a bit further. "You are our only hope," he added, even more softly. "You are our one and only chance to ever find some sort of peace. We need your help, Shilo…we need you, to help us put an end to Rotti's presence on this Earth, and avenge all of our kind - especially your father."

Shilo looked away, daggers of uncertainty slicing through her.

For a minute, everything was still.

"You don't have to decide right away," Jack finally told her gently. "Take your time. Hear out Amber's arguments, if you wish. In the meantime, we will wait for you, and we will try to contain ourselves."

"Contain yourselves?" Shilo asked, looking back up at him.

"We will do our best to hold back - all of us, all over the world," Jack vowed. "I can make no guarantees, as our thirst for blood is unquenchable, but we will do our best to wait for you to make your choice."

Shilo shook her head. "You don't have to do this," she said.

"Yes," Jack said with soft resignation, "we do."

"I don't believe that," Shilo protested softly. "I think you can still choose goodness."

But Jack shook his head sadly. "No, Shilo, we cannot," he said. "I know I might seem kind to you in this moment of time, but if you knew the sort of things that constantly run through my mind, you wouldn't think so highly of me. Even now, just looking at you, the monster in me is screaming for me to cut your throat - just deep enough that you won't be able to scream, but not so deep that you would die quickly. A part of me longs to terrorize you, to torture you to death, to make you bleed and suffer and…!" He clenched his fists and jaw, squeezing his eyes shut, as a shudder that was visible even to Shilo racked his body.

She stared at him in horror.

Finally, the tension in his body lessened, and he opened his eyes with a sigh that was so full of pain that, in spite of what had just happened, Shilo couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"That's what I am, Shilo," he said sadly, meeting her eyes once more. "It is all I can ever be. I can never be human, no matter how much I might wish otherwise."

"I'm sorry," Shilo heard herself say softly.

"Thank you," Jack said; "that means a lot to me."

There was silence again.

"We will take you home now," Jack finally said. "Forgive us, but we must bring you back the same way we brought you here."

Shilo swallowed nervously.

"Just relax," he said softly, stepping over to her. "No matter what, we will not give in to our urges in your case. You are safe among us; I promise you will come to no harm. Just relax," he said again, his voice going soft and soothing, as he stepped around behind her. "Close your eyes…You'll be all right…"

_"You're gonna be all right, that's all that matters…"_ Her father's words, from the night of the opera, echoed in Shilo's mind. Her body was tense with instinctive fear, but she closed her eyes and forced herself to hold still.

"Sleep, sweet angel," Jack whispered in her ear.

She felt a needle pierce her shoulder, and then she knew nothing more.

~X~

When Shilo came to, the first thing she realized was that she was lying on something soft.

She opened her eyes, blinked her vision clear…and wondered if everything - the opera night and all - had been a dream.

She was back in her room. The curtains of plastic still hung around her bed. She was under her sheets, so she couldn't see if she was wearing her white nightdress or the clothes she had worn - she _thought_ she had worn - when she'd answered - _thought_ she'd answered - Amber's summons. She could feel an itchiness where her head was touching the pillow, but that could just as easily have been from her wig as from the short hair she thought she'd grown.

She wanted to lie there forever, praying that her father would come in any moment and tell her to take her medicine. She didn't want to know for sure if it had been real or not, so long as she could pretend it had all been a dream…

"Shilo."

At the sound of his voice, Shilo sat bolt upright in bed and looked around.

Jack Manson was sitting on her bed beside her, just as her father had used to do. He was still wearing his uniform, and he had his helmet tucked under one arm.

She looked at him.

They were both silent for a minute.

"I…" Shilo sighed and shook her head. "For a minute there, I'd hoped it was all a dream," she said.

She opened her eyes to see Jack nod. "I've been there," he said sadly. "Sometimes, in the moments when I first wake up, I still hope that the first thing I'll hear is my mother coming into my room to wake me up to go to school." His eyes lost their focus as he stared off in a direction somewhere over Shilo's head. "I was in the third grade when I was taken," he said softly, almost to himself.

"The third grade?" Shilo asked, confused.

"Hm?" He blinked and refocused his eyes on her. "Oh, don't mind me," he said quickly. "I'm just a…an old man, rambling about an earlier time." He tried to smile at her, but again, the expression didn't even come close to reaching his chilly gray eyes.

Shilo said nothing.

He sighed. "Be that as it may, Shilo," he said, "the truth is, there's no going back. Not for me…" He put a gloved hand gently on her arm. "…and not for you," he said softly; "no matter how much we might wish otherwise."

Shilo met his eyes…and nodded.

He nodded back slowly, gave her arm another pat, and said, "Be well, Shilo…No matter what happens, no matter what you choose, I truly do wish you well. You deserve that much."

"So do you," Shilo heard herself reply.

Jack chuckled, and Shilo could have sworn she saw a faint gleam of humor in his eyes, if only for an instant.

"Farewell, Shilo Wallace," he said, standing up. He gave her a formal bow, put his helmet back on, turned around, and walked out her window.

Shilo leapt out of bed at the same time he vaulted over the fence around the balcony. Alarmed, she ran outside and looked over the edge, just as Jack Manson finished sliding down the wire he'd thrown over the side and touched down on the ground, completely unharmed.

He turned his covered head up to her. For a minute, Shilo saw the blue light from his helmet shine up in her direction, and she could have sworn she saw him raise one gloved hand in farewell. Then the light vanished, and Jack Manson slipped away almost invisibly, barely more than a shadow moving in the darkness of the streets.

When she couldn't make him out anymore, Shilo raised her head to look out on the city…at the view that had, for so long, been her only view of the world.

She breathed deeply of the cool night air. Hardly a month and a half ago, she had stood in this exact same spot, wishing with all her heart for a chance to go outside. Now, she wanted nothing more than to never have to go outside again, to be able to turn back the clock to a time when she hadn't known the horrors the world held for anyone who walked it, no matter who they were or how hard they tried to escape the pain.

But of course, as always, her wish was no one's command.


	9. Amber's Plea

Shilo rose in the morning after a fitful sleep. Sleeping in her old bed, in her old room, had been as uncomfortable as it had been familiar: She didn't want to fall asleep, fearing that she would once again awaken with the hope that it had all been a dream, only to have her hope snuffed out again; but she didn't want to lie there awake, as she had spent so much of the first seventeen years of her life doing, either.

Of course, morning brought no relief, as it only served to signify the time when Shilo had to go and face the head of the _other_ side of the global war.

Regardless of her apprehension and her strong desire to just_ have nothing to do with any of it_, Shilo went to GeneCo HQ in the early morning to see Amber. _After all, at least _she_ asked nicely,_ Shilo told herself as she walked through the dismal city streets. Of course, the irony of the fact that Amber Sweet had asked nicely for something was not at all lost on Shilo…

Naturally, the secretary at the front desk of GeneCo HQ didn't recognize Shilo when she came in. For a moment, Shilo was tempted to give the woman a false name - or, even more desirably, to mumble a halfhearted apology for bothering her and just _walk away from it all_ - but she forced herself to introduce herself honestly when the secretary asked her for her name.

"I'm Shilo Wallace," she said.

"And what is your business here, Miss Wall-?" the secretary began, before breaking off with a gasp and looking more closely at Shilo as the meaning of the name registered.

Shilo smiled nervously but said nothing.

"Of…of course," the secretary finally managed. "I'll tell Miss Sweet you're here. Please, take the elevator to her office right away; she's been waiting for you."

Shilo nodded and followed the secretary's directions.

~X~

When Shilo entered Amber's office, she was surprised by how relatively dark it was; Amber hadn't had the leisure to remodel yet, so it was the same dark cave Rotti had ruled from, not that Shilo knew that. She barely had time to glance around, however, before Amber stood up from her desk and walked quickly around the one or two pieces of furniture that stood between the two of them.

"Shilo?" she asked. "Is that you?"

Shilo nodded.

"Your hair…" Amber blinked, then closed her eyes. "The poison," she said softly. "Of course." She opened her eyes again. "A wig?" she asked.

Shilo nodded again, not needing clarification.

Amber nodded back. "Well, thank you for coming," she said.

Shilo met her eyes unflinchingly, just as she had done with Jack Manson. She took a moment to note the contrast between the GeneCo heiress and the leader of the Repo-men: While Jack Manson had been unremarkable and human-looking except for the cold lifelessness of his eyes, Amber Sweet's inhuman beauty (and racy fashion sense) contrasted sharply with the warmth and life her brilliant blue eyes held…not to mention with the cold meanness Shilo had seen in them when she had met Miss Sweet the night of the opera.

"Yeah, well, at least _you_ asked nicely," Shilo said, keeping her tone and expression carefully guarded.

Amber's eyes widened. "Jack Manson got to you," she half-asked, a strange note of concern in her voice.

Shilo nodded once.

"Did he hurt you?" Amber asked.

Shilo shook her head. "No," she replied.

"Threaten you?" Amber pressed.

"Nope," Shilo replied, shaking her head again.

Amber let out a deep breath. "Well, that's a relief, at least," she said.

"Is it?" Shilo asked her icily, raising an eyebrow at her.

Amber sighed. "Look," she said, "I know we didn't exactly meet under the best of terms…"

Shilo raised her eyebrow a bit higher.

"Okay, fine, we met under the worst terms possible," Amber conceded. "I cannot apologize enough for my behavior that night, and I'm hoping that, if you can't forgive me, then that you can at least set the past aside for now."

Shilo crossed her arms and said nothing.

Amber sighed again. "What did Jack tell you?" she asked Shilo.

"Why?" Shilo retorted coldly. "Can't you make a case in your own defense without tearing down someone else?"

"I just want to know how much you know," Amber said gently.

"About my parents, you mean?" Shilo responded icily. "About how my mother's death was an accident, but your father abused his power to make it so that it was ruled as murder? About how your father _blackmailed_ mine, using _me_ as leverage to turn him into a monster?"

Amber closed her eyes. "He did tell you about it, then," she said.

"Yeah, he did," Shilo snapped.

Amber opened her eyes again and met Shilo's cold gaze, her own eyes showing nothing but the same helpless desperation Jack Manson's had. "Please tell me all of what he told you," she asked of Shilo softly.

Shilo told Amber about how her mother had been sick, and how her father had tried to save her but made a mistake, and about how Rotti had manipulated her father into being the opposite of who he really was. As she spoke, Amber nodded silently, a strange sadness in her gemstone-like eyes.

When Shilo was done, there was silence for a moment. Then, Amber sighed painfully and said, "I'm sure Jack was telling you the truth as he knew it."

"You're saying that's not how it really happened?" Shilo asked sharply.

Amber just looked Shilo in the eye, pain and remorse and guilt practically radiating from her entire being. "Shilo…the truth is even worse," she said softly.

"Then what is the truth?" Shilo demanded in a low voice.

Amber sighed again. "Shilo, your mother _was_ murdered," she told her. "It wasn't your father who killed her, though." She paused, as though she was working up the strength to say what she was about to say, and even before the words were out of her mouth, Shilo knew what they were going to be:

"It was mine."

Shilo's eyes widened.

"_My_ father killed your mother," Amber said, not breaking eye contact with Shilo. "When your mother got sick, my father had a GENtern sneak a vial of poison into the lab where your father was working on the cure. Nathan inadvertently used it in the medicine he was trying to make. That's how your mother died."

Shilo was silent, too horrified to speak.

"My father felt no shame or remorse for this," Amber went on, her eyes meeting Shilo's with very real sorrow and guilt. "I didn't even know about it myself until I found his private records about a month after I took over and read through them; reading between the lines, he actually seemed amused, even proud, that he managed to destroy both of your parents so completely. It was about revenge, for Marni leaving him at the alter. That said, I don't think your mother broke my father's heart; I don't think my father ever had a heart for your mother to break." Amber shook her head, looking like she was fighting back tears, though her voice was steady. "My father was horrible," she confessed gravely. "Whenever your father hesitated to do his job - or whenever my father just felt like being cruel, which was often - my father would remind yours of the night your mother died - make him relive the whole, painful thing. My father always claimed to have been the one who had _fixed_ things that night, and for all the years I spent here, watching him torment your father, I never felt any reason to suspect that my father was lying or hiding anything." She met Shilo's eyes tearfully. "I'm sorry, Shilo," she said honestly.

Shilo remained silent.

Amber looked away, as though hesitant about something, then said, "Something else you should know: Blind Mag…was-"

"My godmother," Shilo finished. "Yes, I know."

Amber raised her eyes to Shilo's again, surprised. "You know?" she asked. "How did you know?"

"She told me so," Shilo replied, "right before the opera. Your father brought me to the show to meet her, and after I got home, she came and found me."

Amber blinked. "_That's_ what you were doing at the Z gathering that night!" she realized out loud.

Shilo nodded. "Yeah," she said; "your father basically kidnapped me, and that grave-robber found me and helped me get home."

To Shilo's surprise, Amber chuckled. "Oh, Graverobber," she said, more to herself than to Shilo, "always the gentleman. Should've known…"

Shilo blinked. "Wait," she said, "was that grave-robber-?"

"Yes," Amber said, smiling at Shilo; "that was _my_ Graverobber, the one the Repo-men call my consort."

"Oh." Shilo had absolutely no idea what to think of that.

Amber smiled to herself and shook her head slightly, then sighed and became serious again. "My father killed her too," she said.

"What?" Shilo asked, confused; Amber had gone from Graverobber to Rotti and then to 'her' way too fast.

"Mag," Amber clarified. "My father murdered her, too. Her fall wasn't planned; I saw him cut the cord that was holding her up after she gouged her eyes out. He didn't hesitate - he murdered her in cold blood."

Shilo's eyes widened again.

"As for your father," Amber went on, "well…" She sighed again. "I know you know that Mag was going to have her eyes repossessed for quitting her job as the Voice of GeneCo…since I was the one who told you," she said, and Shilo could see some guilt mixed with shame in Amber's eyes (not that that was too hard to understand).

"That's putting it nicely," Shilo commented.

Amber closed her eyes and nodded, conceding.

There was a pause.

"Well, your father refused to do it," Amber finally told Shilo.

At this, Shilo gasped.

"My father tried to make him, but nothing could convince your father to kill Mag," Amber went on, meeting Shilo's eyes. "My father reminded yours of the night your mother died, of their agreement, of you, even of the bloodlust my father somehow managed to instill in yours…but even covered in the blood of another victim, your father refused to agree to hurt Mag. He told my father to find someone else to do it, and then walked away. That's why my father tried to get you to kill your father; it was about payback for your father standing up to mine."

Shilo was silent for a moment, breathing hard, her eyes wide. "I…" she said breathlessly. "I…I begged him to protect Mag. I begged him to hide her in our house, to try to keep her safe from the Repo-man. He told me it was pointless. He…he acted like I was just being a silly, ignorant little girl…like he didn't even care…"

"He cared," Amber told Shilo. "He cared, a lot more than he cared about anything else besides you."

Shilo closed her eyes and swallowed. As the shock wore off, the pieces fit together, and anger rose in her chest.

"So…if I side with the Repo-men, I won't just be avenging my father," Shilo said, opening her eyes to glare at Amber; "I'll be avenging him twice over, _and_ I'll be avenging my mother, _and_ I'll be avenging my godmother."

Amber nodded. "Yes," she confessed.

Shilo's fists clenched. "Why would you tell me this?" she demanded of Amber.

"Because I need you to know that I won't lie to you to try to win you over," Amber replied firmly. Then, her expression softened, and she added, "And because…you had the right to know."

"So give me one good reason why I shouldn't side with them," Shilo said angrily.

"Shilo, I'm not my father," Amber said softly. "I'm _nothing_ like my father. I didn't do any of this, and all I want is to see it _end_."

Shilo's already-sharp glare turned lethal. "Maybe you didn't have anything to do with my parents," she said coldly, "but if you die, it _would_ be direct justice for Mag."

Amber blinked.

"You hated her," Shilo went on angrily. "I saw you that night. Just the mention of her name, and you threw a fit! You _wanted_ the Repo-man to take her - you _wanted_ her to die!"

Amber bit her lip. "Shilo-"

"No, you _hated_ her!" Shilo snapped, cutting her off. "That grave-robber whistled her song, and when he pointed the finger at me you jumped down my throat!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Amber exclaimed, holding up her hands. "Slow down. _He_ whistled her song?"

"Yeah," Shilo said icily, "he did. All _I_ did was recognize whose song it was."

Amber blinked. "Oh, that little son of a bitch," she said under her breath, shaking her head slightly. "Can't believe I didn't see that one coming…" She tilted her head. "I'll be having a talk with him about that," she told Shilo.

"No, it doesn't matter - you _hated_ Mag!" Shilo snarled, tears welling in her eyes. "You _hated_ her! For what? What could she have _ever_ done to you?"

"Shilo, please-" Amber began.

"Was it because she could sing and you can't?" Shilo demanded scathingly, struggling not to let her tears of rage spill down her cheeks. "Or was it just because she wouldn't bow down and worship at your father's feet? Mag was a good person, and you hated her! _You hated her_!"

"Yes, I hated her!" Amber finally burst out angrily.

The two young women were silent, both breathing hard with anger and glaring at each other.

"Yes," Amber repeated after a moment, "I hated her. I _loathed_ her. I _wanted_ the Repo-man to take her. I was _eager_ for her to die! I even _fantasized_ about her fucking perfect soprano voice cracking as she died, screaming, under the knife! Yes, I admit it - I hated Blind Mag with every fiber of my being!" By the end of this, Amber was shouting, tears welling in her eyes for some reason, too.

As Amber paused to catch her breath, Shilo shook her head in disgust. "_Why_?" she asked Amber with cold fury.

Amber sighed, and her anger faded. "Shilo, please understand," she said, "I didn't know…" She shook her head. "I didn't know _anything_," she finally finished, and again, Shilo was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

Shilo said nothing.

"Shilo…" Amber bit her lip, as though she was struggling not to cry. She took a deep, shaking breath, then opened her eyes to meet Shilo's furious gaze and said, "My whole life, it seemed to me like Mag was…the apple of my father's eye, his pride and joy. She was the Voice of GeneCo for as far back as I can remember, and before…and every fucking day, my father lavished praise on her. Mag this, Mag that - nothing he ever said about her was anything but reverent. He always smiled when he looked at her, always stood by her side, always eagerly gave her everything she ever asked of him." Amber's expression twisted bitterly, and her voice started to shake. "Then, there was me," she went on; "his own daughter." She shook her head. "All I ever wanted was for him to look at me like that," she told Shilo, tears of long-buried pain welling in her eyes but not spilling over. "All I ever wanted was for him to love me, for him to praise me - for him to look at me and smile like that, even _once_!" She clenched her fists, screwing her eyes shut, and Shilo knew that the pain Amber was struggling to contain was the accumulation of a lifetime's worth of hurt. "Everything I wanted, Mag got," she went on furiously, opening her eyes again. She must have noticed the look on Shilo's face at those words, because she added, "Oh, sure, I was a rich bitch - everything _money_ could get me, I got; even just being the daughter of Rotti Largo got the _peasants_ to kiss my ass. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo," she spat. "Nothing I ever did was good enough for my father - _he_ always looked down on me, lavishing all his favor on Mag. When it came to who got his attention, it was like she was his daughter and not me!"

Shilo still said nothing, but her anger was fading fast. Amber's suffering was clearly very real, and Shilo couldn't help but wonder what kind of father would do that to his own daughter. Sure, Amber had been despicable by the time she and Shilo had met, but if Rotti had been treating her that way even as a child…

"And then, one day," Amber went on, getting a strange, twisted look on her face, "she just walked in here and dropped her letter of resignation on my father's desk." She smiled, but it was a twisted mockery of the expression, even more twisted than Jack's had been - while his smile had been a twisted mockery of the expression because it had been empty, Amber's twisted smile clearly showed that she was feeling the exact opposite of what the expression was supposed to imply. "Just like that," Amber went on, shrugging with mock nonchalance. "All I ever wanted - everything I would have given _anything_ to have - and she decided that she was just going to throw it all away, like it meant nothing!" By the time she had finished saying the words, her anti-smile had given way to a scowl of pure loathing and rage, and she was shouting with the force of the pain she had withheld for so long. "I would have given _anything_ to have even a _piece_ of the life my father gave her," Amber snarled, "and she just tossed it in the trash! So yes, Shilo, I hated her - not only did I envy her for everything she had, but from where I was standing she looked like a fucking ungrateful bitch who took everything I ever wanted and then threw it all away, like it held no value at all! I spent my whole fucking _life_ in her shadow, never being good enough for my own father, and it seemed like she didn't even care!"

Shilo was stunned. Suddenly, Amber's outburst the night of the opera at the mention of Blind Mag made perfect sense, even seemed justified.

"Oh, and of course, my father _begged_ her not to go," Amber went on after a moment, her voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "If _I_ had told him I didn't want to be his _daughter_ anymore, I would have been lucky to get so much as a 'Good-bye, good riddance'; but when _she_ decided that _she_ wanted to walk away, he tried _everything_ to keep her from leaving."

Shilo just shook her head, too shocked to speak. What kind of father would treat his own daughter like that? She couldn't even imagine her own father treating her that way…

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

Amber nodded. "Me, too," she said, her anger fading to be replaced by a strange sadness.

"For what?" asked Shilo - not that she thought Amber didn't have anything to be sorry about, but she was curious what exactly it was she was apologizing for.

"For the way I treated her," Amber replied. "I used let her know exactly what I thought of her." She sighed. "She was never mean to me, though," she went on remorsefully. "She never took offense. She was…an amazing woman."

Shilo's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where is this coming from?" she asked, her tone guarded. "What made you change the way you thought about things?"

Amber's smile didn't meet her eyes. "Well, Shilo, the main reason I saw things the way I did was because I thought my father was someone worth respecting," she replied. "I idolized him. I thought he was perfect - I thought he was a fucking god come to Earth, enduring a life among lowly mortals for their benefit and not his own." She laughed humorlessly. Shilo blinked; the words were unexpectedly eloquent coming from Amber, but somehow, they also sounded like they really _were_ coming from somewhere - or some_one_ - else. "I worshipped him, just like everyone else - just like he wanted everyone to," Amber went on.

"What changed?" asked Shilo.

Amber sighed. "Well, after you walked away…after you turned down my father's show of favor…"_ Like Mag,_ Shilo thought and was grateful Amber didn't say. "I begged my brothers to let me be the one to take over," Amber told Shilo. "It was my one chance to actually _be_ someone, to actually _matter_, and I couldn't let it slip away." She gave another completely humorless chuckle. "Of course, it took me about ten minutes after I took over for me to realize that I didn't have the faintest fucking idea what I was doing," she said. "I didn't know anything about running a business, or about responsibility; hell, I was a fucking _party_ girl - you _saw_ what I was like."

"Yeah," Shilo said, not too kindly, as she remembered what she'd seen of Amber the night of the opera, "I sure did."

Amber's gaze softened as she met Shilo's eyes again. "For what it's worth, I'm very ashamed of the way I behaved that night," she told her.

Shilo nodded a carefully neutral acknowledgement of the apology but said nothing, letting her continue.

Amber sighed again. "Anyway, I was in a bit of a tough spot," she went on, her words laced with a hint of mockery that was directed at herself; "I didn't know how to run GeneCo, but I couldn't just step down and lose my one chance to actually be someone who mattered. So…I started going through my father's old papers. I dug into GeneCo's past, trying to learn how the business worked…and about a month after you left, I found some old records, in a safe in my father's _safe_." Her eyes went distant. "His private records," she said, not really even speaking to Shilo anymore. "His most personal writings…it was essentially a diary. I found the window into my father's mind, the way to see things through his eyes." She shook her head. "That was probably the happiest moment of my life," she said tearfully, her voice cracking.

Shilo was silent.

Amber closed her eyes. "I thought I would finally be able to find out what it was about me that he hadn't liked, so that I could finally become worthy of being his daughter," she said. "I even…" She chuckled to herself again, then shook her head. "I even allowed myself to hope that maybe I'd find something he hadn't said to me," she said bitterly. "I let myself hope that I would find some proof that he really had loved me, after all." She laughed at herself again. "I thought I was going to see into the mind of god…" Another head shake. "Instead, I got a glimpse inside the mind of the devil."

She opened her eyes then and looked at Shilo once more. "My father was a monster, Shilo," she said, and Shilo could see the pain the words caused her. "To say that what I read horrified me would be…well, I can't think of a bigger possible understatement." She shook her head again, a sad smile forming on her lips that all but broke Shilo's heart. "Everything I thought I'd ever known was a lie," Amber said. "Everything my father ever did was for his benefit and his benefit alone. He didn't see the epidemic that threatened to wipe out mankind as a tragedy - he saw it as a golden opportunity. He used it to take over the world, and everything about GeneCo that I grew up embracing was meant to control the people." Amber looked away again, anger burning in her eyes once more, along with a fair amount of disgust. "Take GENterns, for instance," she said; "my father created them to 'appeal to the basest desires of any living thing, and thus gain control over them'." She shook her head disgustedly. "My father worked hard to reduce everyone to sub-human beings, and he _knew_ what he was doing. He _knew_ that in doing things like twisting the phrase 'It's what's inside that counts' to be talking about organs and not the soul, he was destroying the value of humanity. He _wanted_ everyone to be his pets, to be like sheep. That's what he called them - sheep." She laughed sarcastically. "'The rams can no longer defend themselves or their ewes from the wolves, so I shall step forward and be their shepherd,'" she said, and Shilo got the feeling that she was quoting the words Rotti Largo had written. "'I shall keep the wolves at bay, and in return, the sheep will follow me wherever I go, and serve my whims, whatever they may be. When I am cold I shall take their wool; when I hunger I shall consume their flesh; when I thirst I shall drink their blood; and they will give it all to me willingly, for it will be because of me that they even have all of it to give.'" She glanced at Shilo and gave her a sarcastic smile. "If nothing else, my father was poetic," she said mockingly.

Shilo blinked, horrified.

"Hey, if you think that's bad, that was just the beginning," Amber told her. "Here's how he talked about organ repossession being legalized: 'The rams have forgotten what their horns are for; no one fights to live anymore. I don't need a slaughterhouse; if one of the sheep is no longer of use to me, I can kill it right in front of the rest, and the others won't spare my victim a second glance, for they have all forgotten what it means to be alive - just as I knew they would. Now, they are allowing me to unleash my own terrors on them, and none of them will fight back, for they no longer realize that letting the wolves get them would be a far less painful death than what they'll get for losing their usefulness to me.'"

"You…" Shilo shook her head slowly, manically, completely horrified by what she was hearing. "You've got to be making this stuff up," she said softly.

Amber shook her head. "I wish I was," she said sadly; "I really, really do."

"Did…did he say anything about you?" Shilo asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Amber laughed bitterly. "Oh, plenty," she said. "Most descriptively, 'My daughter, whom I had hoped would grow to be a human being, unlike her worthless brothers, has turned out as just another ewe - a lame ewe, at that, with wool so coarse and scraggly that even the most skilled weaver could make no use of it. She's not even worth the grass she chews on.'" She laughed bitterly again, and Shilo's jaw dropped with shock.

_What sort of father would talk about his own daughter like that?_

Shilo didn't realized she'd asked the question out loud until Amber met her eyes and answered simply, "Mine."

Shilo blinked.

There was silence for a moment.

"…And Mag?" Shilo finally asked softly.

Amber gave another mirthless laugh, this one almost hysterical. "Oh, Mag," she said; "I thought I wanted to be like her in his eyes - I thought she _mattered_ to him - but in reality, she was nothing but a tool to him. He called her a songbird." She shrugged sarcastically. "Hey, better than being called a sheep, right?" She laughed again, and again the sound held no humor. "'My shepherdess has brought with her a beautiful little songbird, whose voice could charm anything with ears,'" Amber quoted. "'With that bird singing my praises, no one would ever question me again. She's a blind little bird, poor thing - which is fortunate for me, as it provides me with a golden opportunity. I shall make her see. I shall give her new eyes, and she will be forever indebted to me. In return, I shall have her sing my praises forevermore, and with her by my side, no sheep will ever stray from my herd, nor will any of them ever think to again.'" Amber laughed humorlessly again. "And I thought I wanted him to see me the way he saw her," she muttered bitterly under her breath, more to herself than to Shilo. Then she glanced at Shilo and added, "Oh, and trust me, you _don't_ want to hear what he said about your mother, and you _especially_ don't want to hear what he said about your father."

Shilo didn't doubt that.

Amber sighed painfully. "Shilo…I just want all of this to be over now," she told her, her eyes filled with tearful desperation. "I just want to put an end to this nightmare. That's _all_ I want anymore. I promise, I will do everything in my power to undo what my father did…and to make sure your parents and Mag didn't die in vain."

Shilo blinked at this; it was a new perspective on the matter that she hadn't thought of.

"They died standing up for the world my father was trying to destroy," Amber went on; "I won't let that have been all for nothing, so long as I have any say in it…so please, Shilo: give me a chance. Just one chance. I promise I won't fuck it up." She tried to smile, but the expression didn't quite meet her eyes. "I'd swear on my father's grave, but, well…" She shrugged.

Shilo nodded silently. Really, she had nothing to say.

Amber took a step towards her. "Please, Shilo," she begged, "tell the people of the world to fight the Repo-men. Please take my side in this war. Please."

Shilo just looked silently into Amber's eyes.

There was silence for a minute.

"I'll let you know what I decide when I make up my mind," Shilo finally said woodenly, and she turned around and started walking back to the elevator.

"Shilo?"

Shilo stopped and turned back to look at Amber.

Amber opened her mouth, hesitated, closed it, then gave Shilo an embarrassed nod and said, "Of course. Take as long as you need. But…" She hesitated again, took a breath, then met Shilo's eyes seriously and pleaded, "Just don't take too long. I know this is a big decision, and I know you need time to think it over, and I accept that, but…Shilo, people are dying. My father's dream was everyone else's nightmare, and it's still going on while you make up your mind."

Shilo nodded wordlessly and turned back around.

"And Shilo?"

Shilo stopped and looked back again.

This time, Amber's sapphire eyes were filled with remorse. "I'm sorry you have to go through all of this," she said. "I know it's not fair that you're being put in this position, and I'm sorry."

Shilo nodded once. "Apology accepted," she said stonily, and at last, she left.

Even after she was well away from Amber's office, she still felt the GeneCo heiress's eyes on her back.


	10. Responsibility

If only as a force of habit, Shilo went to visit her mother's tomb that night.

She walked through the front gates to the graveyard that night, instead of using the secret passage she had always used to use when she snuck out. It was strange to go the normal way, but better than reliving how the whole disastrous opera night had begun for her…

She had half expected to be stopped by some guards somewhere along the way, but for some reason, the graveyard was as quiet as…well, the grave. There were no searchlights, no guards patrolling the rows of tombstones, nothing. Shilo was under too much stress to bother worrying about it, though.

As she approached her mother's tomb and looked through the little window in the doorway to see her mother's portrait, a strong wave of nostalgia swept over her. How often had she come here, alone, just to clear her head and maybe catch a bug or two? How many times had she snuck out to be with her mother, not knowing that her father only kept her locked inside to protect her from the horrors of the real world? How much bitterness had she wasted on her parents, night after night, for being stuck at home?

She remembered how the whole catastrophe had begun - in this exact place, at roughly the same time of night, when she had met Graverobber, who had been reciting the way the world looked through his eyes as he disturbed the eternal rest of the dead. She hadn't understood what he had been saying at the time, but looking back, it occurred to Shilo that he had been surprisingly insightful about what Rotti had turned the world into.

Of course, that memory brought back all her memories of that dark and fateful night: how she had unwittingly been thrust into the middle of a blood feud involving the most powerful people in the world, forced to learn only selected pieces of the tragedy and take a side that would determine the rest of her life, and decide the fate of many others…

And now, here she was, once more at the center of a titanic power struggle. The whole world weighed down on her shoulders then, and she couldn't take it any longer.

She turned around, sat down on the steps to her mother's tomb, cradled her head in her arms, and cried.

It wasn't fair. She didn't want to have anything to do with all this madness. So what if Rotti had dated her mother for a little while? She herself had no ties to GeneCo! She was just a child - how could the people of the world expect _her_ to be able to determine their fate? _Why_?

And that was her predominant thought - the question that screamed in her mind - as her sobs racked her shoulders: _Why me?…Why me?…_Why me_?_

She was crying so hard that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching her, so it wasn't until he spoke that she realized she wasn't alone anymore.

"Is that you, kid?"

She jumped and looked up to see Graverobber standing not two feet away, looking at her.

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Go away," she said, glaring at him. "Leave me alone."

He blinked. "No offense, kid, but you don't seem like you're doing so well on your own," he pointed out.

"Look, I don't really want to talk to you," she said bitingly, knowing she was taking out her pain and frustration on him but not caring; "you're Amber's lover."

He sighed. "We fuck sometimes," he said; "that doesn't mean I'm on her side."

"Do you have any idea how sick and wrong that is?" she demanded of him.

"Sadly, yes," he replied; "I do."

Shilo shook her head, still glaring at him, then put her head back down in the cradle of her arms.

She heard him walk over to her and sit down next to her on her left. She ignored him.

He sighed again. "Look, kid," he said; "if this whole mess was up to me, I'd just say to hell with both of them and let them destroy each other."

She raised her head to look at him again.

"But…Well…" He shrugged, then smiled. "I suppose that's why it's _not_ up to me," he said to her.

Shilo said nothing, but she didn't look away again, either.

There was silence for a minute. Finally, Shilo turned her head to look off into the distance.

"Why are you with her, if you're not on her side?" she asked Graverobber softly.

He sighed again. "I have my vices," he said evasively.

Shilo glanced back at him. He didn't meet her eyes.

She nodded, turning her head away again. "She's pretty," she said tonelessly.

"Pretty?" Graverobber repeated. "Uh, no - _you_, kid, are pretty."

Shilo turned to look at him again; she could feel herself starting to blush.

"_Amber_ is inhumanly beautiful," Graverobber went on.

Shilo felt like she had been shot down from the sky.

"And even though I _know_ her beauty is _literally_ unnatural - and therefore inferior to, say, yours - well…" He shrugged. "I have my vices," he said again.

Shilo blinked; his words had sent her emotions on a little roller-coaster ride, and she wasn't sure whether to be insulted or flattered.

"We all have our vices," she finally said. "That doesn't mean we have to give in to them."

Graverobber looked straight ahead and chuckled slightly but said nothing.

"You think I don't know what I'm talking about?" Shilo asked.

He did look at her then. "I didn't say that," he said.

"But you were thinking it, weren't you?" Shilo pressed.

He sighed. "Look, kid, no offense, but what vices could you possibly have?" he asked, not unkindly. "You grew up away from all this."

"Rotti didn't _invent_ people's vices," Shilo said, "he just appealed to them and encouraged people to give in to them. He did that with me."

"I ask again: What vices could you possibly have?" Graverobber asked her.

She smiled ironically. "I know how to hold a grudge, for one thing," she replied.

Graverobber blinked.

"When I thought I was sick, I hated my mother for giving me my disease," Shilo went on. "Yeah, it killed her, and yeah, it wasn't her fault, but I hated her anyway."

Graverobber stared at her. "I…" He shook his head and chuckled. "I'm sorry, but I just can't imagine you hating anyone," he said.

"You don't even know me," Shilo pointed out coldly.

He gave a half-shrug and looked away again.

There was silence again for another minute. Then, Graverobber sighed.

"I know I don't have to give in to my vices," he said, "but it's not as though anyone's getting hurt if I am. On the contrary," he added with a nasty smile that he thankfully _didn't_ direct at Shilo.

"But you don't care about her," Shilo half-asked tonelessly.

"No," he admitted. "That's not to say I'd be particularly _happy_ if something happened to her, but I wouldn't be upset, either."

"That's sick," Shilo stated.

"How so?" asked Graverobber. "I enjoy her. Not that there's nothing wrong with that, but to say it's sick is a bit of a stretch."

"Just out of pure curiosity," Shilo said, turning her head to look at him again: "What is it that _you_ think is wrong with that?"

He glanced at her. "Well, you saw what she was like two months ago," he said. He shook his head. "Wouldn't it just figure?" he muttered, more to himself than to Shilo. "The only attractive junkie in the city, if not the whole world, and she was even more disgusting on the inside than all the others put together. At least the others actually _look_ as nasty as they are."

"Yeah, like that one who started getting surgery and turning tricks when she was thirteen," Shilo agreed, remembering.

"Yeah, it doesn't take them long to stoop to that level," Graverobber said absentmindedly.

Shilo blinked. "Wait…what?" she asked.

Graverobber flinched, and Shilo saw guilt flash across his face. "Nothing," he said quickly…a bit _too_ quickly.

Shilo's eyes widened. "You don't mean…?"

He closed his eyes.

"_You_?" she exclaimed.

"Yes," he admitted, shamefaced.

Shilo's jaw dropped, and she stared at him with shock and disgust.

He opened his eyes to see the way she was looking at him. "Look, I didn't want to," he said defensively.

"Then why did you?" Shilo demanded.

"Because I'm a whore, alright?" he snapped. "You can't be a grave-robber without being a Z-whore - that's one of the first things you learn when you get in the business!"

Shilo shook her head in disgust.

"Look, I don't control how old they are when they come to me," Graverobber went on angrily. "I _hate_ it when they're kids! I'm not proud of it, I don't enjoy it, and it is _never_ my idea!"

"She was thirteen!" Shilo exclaimed.

"I've dealt with younger," he snapped defensively.

Shilo blinked. "_WHAT_?" she shouted.

Graverobber winced. "Er…That came out wrong," he said lamely.

"_How_ could that have come out 'wrong'?" Shilo demanded. "I mean, any more 'wrong' than it already is?"

"I didn't mean…Look, I haven't taken _alternative payment_ from younger!" he exclaimed.

"'Alternative payment'?" Shilo repeated coldly.

He sighed. "Yes," he said; "that's what we in the business call it."

Shilo shook her head again, glaring at him disgustedly. "You're sick," she spat.

He glared back. "If they offer me alternative payment, I have no choice but to accept," he told her; "that's just part of the job, and my least favorite part at that. I never _suggest_ it to them, but by the time they've had three surgeries, they're typically worse than GENterns."

"Please tell me we're at _least_ talking only about women," Shilo practically begged.

"_Yes_," he said, glaring at her; "not that that makes it any better and you know it." Shilo opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could make a sound, he snapped, "Look, can we change the subject, please? You were the one sitting here crying, not me!"

"Oh, yeah," Shilo said sarcastically, "thanks for reminding me that the fate of the whole world is fully, completely, and totally in my hands for no reason I can even begin to think of!"

He sighed, his anger dissipating. "Sorry," he said softly.

Shilo just glared at him for another minute, then looked straight forward again without saying anything.

"Look," he finally said gently, "you don't have to like me. You don't have to approve of the life I chose. You can be as disgusted with me as you want. That's fine. But…" She turned her head back to him as he sighed again. "Talk to me," he coaxed her softly. "Regardless of how I may live the rest of my life…maybe things will be clearer for you if you talk it all out with someone. So, talk to me."

"Don't you have a queen to fuck?" Shilo snapped contemptuously.

"Not for a few more hours," he replied with a shrug, apparently unoffended.

Shilo closed her eyes and thought for a moment.

"Okay," she finally sighed.

She told Graverobber about how the Repo-men had abducted her, about Jack's story and his plea, and about the humanity she had seen in him even though he insisted that he was a monster. She told him about talking to Amber the very next morning, about the revisions to Jack's story that the GeneCo heiress had given her, about the suffering Amber had endured at the hands of her own father and how she had begged Shilo to give her a chance to make up for everything.

When she was done, there was silence for a minute.

"I don't know what to do," Shilo finally said. "They both seem like they deserve some sort of compensation for what Rotti did to them…I mean, they were both his victims - it doesn't even really make sense that they're on opposite sides."

Graverobber sighed. "Well," he commented, "I certainly understand why you were crying earlier. What they told you is a lot to handle on its own, never mind that you have to decide the fate of the world while you're still coming to terms with your own past."

"What should I do?" Shilo asked. "I feel bad for both of them."

He sighed again. "Well, kid," he said, "all I can say is that, if you can't decide which of them deserves more sympathy, then you should base your choice on some other factor."

Shilo nodded. It was good advice, even if it wasn't very helpful at that moment.

They were silent for another minute.

"How long have you known Amber?" Shilo finally asked.

He sighed. "She was my customer for five years," he replied; "although, to be fair, to say that I've _known_ her for five years might be a bit of a stretch."

"Even physically?" Shilo couldn't help teasing, turning to him and smiling in spite of herself.

He smiled back. "_Especially_ physically," he said.

Shilo blinked.

His smile widened. "I know," he said sarcastically; "shocker, right? Bitch never paid me in anything but money until the night of the opera." He shook his head and looked away again. "Naturally," he muttered under his breath.

Shilo decided not to question what exactly he meant by that.

"Do you and she ever talk?" she asked him instead. "I mean, now that she's not your…um, customer? Or do you two just…?"

"Yes, we talk now…sometimes," Graverobber replied hesitantly. "Not very often, but…sometimes. Why?"

"When you were talking about her a little while ago, you were talking about the way she _was_," Shilo said. "You were saying she _was_ disgusting, that she _was_ nasty."

"Yes," Graverobber said slowly.

"Is she really different now?" Shilo asked him.

Graverobber didn't look at her. "She's…not her father," he said tonelessly. "That's all I can say."

"But is she…is she _good_?" Shilo pressed. "Is she as nice as she seemed when I talked to her today?"

He hesitated.

"Look, bottom line: Do you trust her?" Shilo asked him insistently.

He sighed.

"…There are days when I wish I did," he finally replied. He shrugged. "There are days when I wish I didn't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Shilo, confused.

He sighed again and shook his head. "She's not…she's not _inherently_ bad, like her father was," he said. "Sometimes - rarely, but sometimes - I…I get a glimpse of the person she maybe could have been if she hadn't been raised at the heart of her father's dark kingdom, and it's a good person I see then. Can she ever be that person? I don't know for sure. I…I sometimes believe that she wants to be, but I don't know if she can." He did look at Shilo then. "I'm sorry," he said; "I know you were hoping for an all-or-none answer, but…I'm afraid I can't give you one. It's just…not that simple. _She's_ not that simple."

"Maybe the only reason it's not that simple is because you won't let it be," Shilo heard herself say.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked her.

Shilo shrugged. "Just that I don't think you're a very trusting person," she said. "I think that you're…afraid, to believe that she could be okay. Maybe you're even afraid to believe that _anything_ can be okay, ever."

There was silence for a minute.

"Maybe," he finally admitted, turning his head to look away from her again. He paused, then added, "There is one thing I can say with some certainty, though: She's not smart enough to have made up that sheep stuff on her own - that almost certainly was Rotti's voice, not hers."

It was Shilo's turn to sigh. "Why me?" she asked softly. "Why does all of this have to be up to _me_?"

"Because you…" Graverobber broke off and shook his head.

"Because I what?" Shilo pressed. "If you know why all this is on me, please, tell me!"

He sighed. "Kid…" He turned his head back to her and looked her in the eye. "Rotti's influence spread across the entire globe," he told her, "and it corrupted everyone and everything it touched. Some got a worse case of it than others, but by the time he died, everyone was under his influence…except you. You are the only thing left in this world that Rotti didn't manage to touch…and since this whole war is about fighting what Rotti did, you're the only one the people feel like they can really trust to make the right choice."

"But I don't want this!" Shilo exclaimed, tears welling in her eyes again.

"I know you don't," he said softly. "I think everyone knows that. That's part of why it _is_ up to you - because you _aren't_ corrupt. You _don't_ want power."

"Neither do you," Shilo pointed out.

He chuckled. "No, but I'm corrupted in my own way," he said.

"Are you talking about the fact that you desecrate graves to make a living, or the fact that you fuck kids to make a living?" Shilo shot at him.

Graverobber met her eyes sadly. "Kid, I don't do either of those things for the money," he told her. "Sure, I have to make a living, just like anyone else, but there's a reason I chose this job, and it has nothing to do with money, or sex, for that matter. In fact, to be honest, I took this job _in spite of_ the sex."

"The night of the opera, you said that sometimes you wonder why you did it," Shilo said.

He nodded. "What I meant by that was that sometimes I wonder if it was worth it," he told Shilo. "There are times when I feel like it's not."

"Like when you're fucking kids?" Shilo snapped.

"Especially then, but not only then," Graverobber replied, bristling only slightly at Shilo's attacks.

"So what's it about, then?" Shilo asked coldly. "What could possibly make all of that worth it?"

Graverobber half-smiled and gestured at the graveyard in front of them. "_This_," he replied. "Robbing graves right under the noses of GeneCo's guards, then selling the Zydrate I harvest in Rotti's own backyard. Becoming a necromerchant was the closest I could safely get to spitting in Rotti's face."

Shilo blinked. "A what?" she asked.

"A necromerchant," he repeated. "It's the…all-encompassing term for my profession."

"Why 'necromerchant'?" she asked, curious.

He shrugged. "Well, Zydrate is decomposing brain matter," he replied. "That's why robbing graves is part of the job…" He chuckled. "Basically, my job is to sell rot."

Shilo was silent for a minute. Then, she realized what he'd said.

"Wait…the closest you could _safely_ get to spitting in Rotti's face?" she repeated.

Graverobber looked at her. "Kid, _everyone_ who stood up to Rotti ended up dead sooner or later," he told her; "your parents and Mag were just three of many. I was fortunate enough to realize that _before_ I grew up and could do anything…so, when I _did_ grow up, I realized I had three choices: I could stand up to Rotti and call him out on all the bullshit he was doing, and end up dead without having changed a thing; I could give in to what he was doing and embrace the stuff he preached, and end up worse than dead, in my opinion; or, I could accept what he was doing as impossible to fight, but live in his world in such a way that I used his system against itself. I chose the third option…so, here I am."

"But Rotti's dead now," Shilo said. "Besides, there are no guards out here tonight."

"I know," he replied, "but I'm too far in to back out now. A necromerchant is all I can ever be anymore." He gave her a twisted smile. "There's no going back for me, either," he said.

Shilo shook her head. "I'm really tired of hearing people talk about what they can and can't be anymore," she said exasperatedly. "How do you know what you can or can't be if you're not even willing to try?"

"Well, for one thing, I don't even remember my own name," Graverobber replied.

Shilo blinked.

He smiled ironically at her, and she didn't know if he was joking or not.

They were both silent for a minute.

"How come this place is so quiet tonight?" Shilo finally wondered out loud.

She hadn't really been expecting an answer, but to her surprise, Graverobber replied right away.

"It's part of my deal with Amber," he said, "not that I was really expecting her to be able to pull it off." He chuckled. "I actually wasn't planning on holding her to that term," he said. "Doesn't it just figure that she'd use my own demands against me?"

"Your deal?" Shilo questioned.

Graverobber nodded. "She and I have…an agreement," he said. "What she told Matthew the Repo-man was true - she asked for my help…and made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"What?" asked Shilo.

"Anything," he replied. "She offered me a blank-check deal in exchange for becoming her advisor. Whatever terms I wanted, as many terms as I wanted."

"And that's how you became her 'consort'?" Shilo asked.

He nodded.

"So you asked her for…what?" asked Shilo stonily. "Sex?"

"_And_ freedom from association with GeneCo, _and_ immunity - for _all_ necromerchants - _without_ her letting anyone know she was legalizing it," Graverobber added.

Shilo just looked at him in disbelief.

"…So that's it?" she finally asked. "Advice for sex and freedom? That's all there is to your relationship with her?"

He sighed. "Look," he said, "what we have works. I don't expect you to understand it, but…it works for us, okay?"

She stared at him for a minute.

"You know what I think?" she finally said woodenly. "I think the reason that what you have with her 'works' for you…is because you just don't know how to feel."

He blinked.

"I think," Shilo went on, slowly and with emphasis, "that your heart…is _cold_…and _dead_. I think…that you just worked _so hard_ not to turn into one of Rotti's sheep…that you closed off your heart to everything, until you couldn't care about anyone, not even yourself…and that what you have with Amber 'works'…because it's the closest you can come to feeling anything anymore."

He stared at her disbelievingly as she stood up without breaking eye contact with him.

"I hope you still have enough life in you that it's not too late," she told him, her voice as cold and hard as ice, "because I can see that, if you were human, you'd be a good man. I hope you can find yourself. And if you can't…then I am _so_…_sorry_…for you." She shook her head slightly. "But I wouldn't be surprised," she said. "I think you're dead inside, Graverobber - as dead as the bodies you dig up for a living. That's why this is the best part of your job, for you: because when you're here, you're with your own kind."

He looked too shocked to speak.

"Goodbye," Shilo said coldly, and she turned around and started walking out of the graveyard.

"Shilo," she heard him finally say behind her.

It was the first time he had ever called her by her name, but she ignored him.

"Shilo!" she heard him call.

She kept walking.

"You're wrong, Shilo!" he called to her back.

She didn't even slow down.

"You're wrong!" he called again. "I'm not dead inside!"

She kept going.

"I know I'm not dead inside," he shouted at her, "because I feel when I look at you!"

She stopped in her tracks.

When he didn't say anything more, she turned back to look at him and saw that he had stood up, his eyes looking at her and filled with a very real emotion, if one she couldn't quite identify.

"The night we met…" he said in a low, shaking voice, "the moment I looked in your eyes…I knew. I knew that you weren't part of all…" He made a vague, all-encompassing gesture with his arms, "of all this…that everything I thought couldn't be anymore - everything Rotti tried to destroy - lived on, if only in you. And Shilo…" He shook his head, looking like he was about to cry. "I _felt_ something, then," he hissed. "And do you want to know what I _felt_?"

Shilo couldn't reply.

"I felt joy," he told her softly.

She blinked.

"I felt joy…and hope," he went on, "because I knew then that, even if you were all that was left, if you could just last until Rotti died of…of _whatever_…that there was a chance that this darkness wouldn't last forever."

They were both silent for a minute.

"Well, I hope I'm not the only thing that can make you feel," Shilo finally said, "because this is the last time we'll ever meet. Once I make my choice and end this war, I'm going to run away and never look back. I'm going to chase the morning until I die."

"And you have every right to," he said.

She nodded. "So hold on to this," she told him; "hold on to whatever it is I'm making you feel, and don't let yourself go cold again…because this is the last time you'll have my help." She tilted her head. "You have one chance," she said; "don't fuck it up."

He smiled, recognizing her allusion to her talk with Amber. "I won't," he vowed.

She nodded again. "Good luck," she said to him.

"You too," he replied, nodding back.

She met his eyes silently for another minute, then slowly turned around and walked away. She walked slowly until she knew she was out of his sight. Then, she bolted. She ran as fast as she could, down the streets, through the door of her house, up the stairs, until she was in her old bed, in her old room, with her face buried in her pillows.

She cried. She cried, and cried, until all the pain, anger, frustration, and loneliness in her heart had bled out through her eyes.

Finally, when at long last her tears subsided, she had made up her mind. She knew what she had to do.


	11. Shilo's Choice

At first, Shilo was worried about how to get things started; she had never been in front of a bunch of reporters at all, never mind calling them all to see her in the first place. She quickly gave up on trying to figure out how to start things on her own, though, and decided to just tell Amber that she'd made up her mind, and that she wanted to tell the whole world all at once. Amber quickly called a press conference, and it wasn't even noon before Shilo found herself in front of a bunch of cameras, all the eyes in the world on her to see what she would do.

Strangely, she wasn't nervous. She had never been the direct, sole center of nearly so much attention in her life, but she wasn't scared. Maybe she was just too overwhelmed by everything to be scared.

Of course, another strong possibility was that she was just too _annoyed_ to be scared, because she started her speech like this:

"I know everyone in the world wants to know who I'm siding with in this war because, even though I'm just a kid and don't want to have anything to do with any of this - two things that apparently don't mean anything to _anyone_ - I somehow became the arbitrator for this whole thing. Well, I'll get to it, but before I tell everyone what I've decided, I want to fully explain why I've made the choice I've made, so that if, god forbid, something like this were to come up again, you'll all know how to figure things out for yourselves and won't have to find a scapegoat to dump everything on!"

A few people in the crowd glanced at each other guiltily, and that was more than enough of a reward for Shilo.

She took a breath to calm down, then went on.

"I've talked to both Jack Manson and Amber Sweet to some extent, and they've both told me things I wish I hadn't needed to know," she said. "Taking what they've both told me put together, I've managed to get an idea of who Rotti Largo was and what exactly it was he did to the world.

"I now know that Rotti Largo murdered both my mother and my father, as well as Blind Mag, my godmother. He poisoned my mother, cut the cord that held Mag up during the opera, manipulated and blackmailed my father into becoming a monster, then tried to manipulate me into killing my father when my father refused to repossess Mag's eyes."

The crowd of people started to rustle and mutter among themselves, but Shilo ignored them and just kept going.

"This is the sort of person he was, and what he did to my family was just a few instances of the sort of evils he did to people," she told everyone. "The people on both sides of this war - and indeed, everyone in the world - were all Rotti's victims. Amber and Jack both suffered at the hands of Mr. Largo, and all of this is only happening because of the evils done by one man. It doesn't even make sense that there are two sides to this war, as both sides want essentially the same thing: the end of Rotti's influence on this world. Be that as it may, they've chosen to fight, so one side has to win, and one side has to lose, and I'm sorry for that."

Shilo looked up then and met Amber's eyes; she would have met Jack's eyes, too, had he been there, but he wasn't, so she settled for just looking straight into some of the cameras.

"As I've said, both sides have told me what they've suffered, and asked for my help to get some sort of compensation," Shilo said. "The suffering on both sides makes me very sad, and when it comes to choosing which side deserves more sympathy, I am unable to do so."

There was a disturbance at this, and Shilo paused and waited for the crowd to quiet down.

"Both sides have also appealed to the suffering I myself endured thanks to Rotti," she went on at last; "Jack has offered me revenge, while Amber has sworn that my family's sacrifices will not be in vain. Both of these things mean a great deal to me, and when it comes to choosing between them, I am once again unable to do so."

There was another disturbance at these words, louder this time, and Shilo moved her gaze across the crowd, trying to meet as many eyes as possible, while she waited for silence. Amber, she noticed, looked worried, but she had made up her mind, and that was that.

"Furthermore, both sides have expressed a desire to see Rotti's way of ruling this world end," Shilo continued when again there was silence. "They have both told me that they hope for the world to heal, and be led out of the darkness Rotti cast the world in. When it comes to choosing between the two sides' visions for the world, I am, once again, unable to do so."

This time, to say that there was a disturbance would have been an understatement; the people were getting impatient. Shilo heard one or two people ask her, exasperatedly, whether she had made up her mind or not, and she had to work hard not to smile; after all, she knew how to hold a grudge, and in a way, this was her revenge on the people for forcing her to decide the fate of the world.

At last, there was silence. Shilo took a breath, then continued.

"This choice was not easy," she told the world, "but I finally found a place where I could comfortably take a side. You see, I realized that, in being given this choice, I am, in a way, being forced, if only for this moment in time, to rule the world…and I asked myself, What would Rotti do in my place?" Shilo looked at Amber. "Well, that answer was simple enough," she said: "Rotti ruled this world with hatred; with chaos; with anger and pain and death. I decided that I will not rule that way. I decided that I will rule with love." She swept her gaze across the crowd. "With compassion." She looked into the cameras to express her desire to look Jack in the eye. "With integrity." She looked at Amber again. "With mercy." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "And, yes…with forgiveness."

The world held its breath.

"Therefore," Shilo said, "I have made my choice…to support GeneCo."

A cheer erupted from the crowd, and Shilo could almost literally hear it being echoed all across the world. It lasted for about a minute…then died down when the people realized that Shilo wasn't finished.

"I have made my choice to support GeneCo," Shilo repeated when there was silence again, "but there is something more that I have to say, to both sides." She looked Amber in the eye again. "To Amber, I have this message," she said: "Do not make me regret this. I am giving you your one chance, and it is the only one you'll get. If you fail, then so help me, I will lead a revolution myself."

She saw, rather than heard, Amber reply, "I won't."

She turned back to the cameras.

"To Jack Manson, and all the Repo-men, I have this to say," she went on: "I am sorry. I'm sorry I can't join your side in this fight, and I'm sorry you can't have your revenge for what Rotti did to you. That said…" She took a breath. "I do not believe that things have to be like this," she told them. "I do not believe that you have to be monsters, that slaughter really is all you know. After all, you know that it's wrong - whether you feel it or not, you know it." She sighed. "I will not deny that you have your urges," she said. "I've seen it myself; you do have the compulsion to torture and kill. Be that as it may, you don't have to give in to them." She smiled. "We all have our…" Her smile widened, and she wished she could meet Graverobber's eyes. "…our vices," she said; "that doesn't mean we have to give in to them. They are no more powerful in determining how we live our lives than our genes are…and this goes for _everyone_ watching, Repo, GeneCo, and common people alike: It is the choices we make that determine who we are - not our genes, not our vices, not fate, and not even our pasts; our _choices_ determine who and what we are…and it is never too late to make a different choice." She sighed. "Jack, you've told me that there is no going back for you," she said; "I don't believe that's true. I believe that we can always go back, no matter who we are. We may not be able to change the past, but our future is up to our own selves, and nothing and no one else can choose our legacies for us. Maybe the choice is a bit harder for you and your people, but make no mistake - it is _always_ a choice, not fate."

She paused, letting her words sink in. The silence was completely global.

"That is all," she finished at last. "Thank you. I hope this is the last anyone hears of this conflict."

And with that, she turned her back to the world and walked away for the last time.

~X~

Shilo stood on the shore back on the mainland that night, looking, once more, across the channel to where Sanatarium Island stood.

It was strange; she didn't hate being there anymore. She no longer felt the urge to turn and run. Not that she didn't want to leave, but for some reason, the place felt like home for her in a way it never had before.

Of course, she also knew that, now that everyone knew what she looked like with short hair, she wouldn't be able to escape the people's reverence for her, either, whether she went far from the island or not.

She sighed, breathing in the sea breeze. Oh well. Being pestered wherever she went was still better than getting surgery.

"Shilo?"

She jumped at the soft voice, then turned to see Jack Manson standing behind her, wearing normal clothes, his gray eyes - the eyes that were his only distinguishing feature - fixed on her.

"Jack," she said softly.

He nodded.

There was silence between them for a minute.

"I'm sorry," Shilo finally said. "I really am."

Jack nodded again. "Me, too," he said.

Shilo nodded, too. "You're here for revenge, then?" she asked him, strangely unafraid.

"No," he replied. "I mean…" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

She waited.

"Did you…did you really mean what you said?" he finally asked her. "Do you really believe it's not too late for me?"

"I told the truth as I see it," Shilo replied. "I've seen a human being in you, whether you admit there's one in there or not. I know you can always make a choice."

"How do you know?" he asked her.

She smiled. "You chose not to hurt me," she pointed out.

"But Shilo…" He shook his head. "You're…special," he said.

She shrugged. "You still made a choice," she said. "You told me yourself that you had the urge to hurt me, yet you were still able to choose not to do it. You could have. I was completely helpless; you could have hurt me any time you wanted. You didn't."

He closed his eyes and nodded.

They were both silent for another minute.

"Then let us work for you," Jack finally said.

Shilo blinked. "What?" she asked.

He opened his eyes and smiled at her, and this time, his smile did manage to meet his eyes. "I know you want to see the world," he said. "My kind have a lot of skill in the areas of stealth and secrecy; we can help you see without being seen. There are tens of millions of us across the globe - we are, literally, everywhere. You can go wherever you want, and there will always be at least one of us there to help you. So…" He walked over to her, got down on his knees, and took hold of her hands, just as he had when he'd asked her to hear him out. "Let us work for you," he pleaded of her softly. "Give us something good to do with what we were trained for. Let us help you. If you do, no one will come to harm by our hands or our blades, ever again. On behalf of all of my kind, you have my word on that."

Shilo looked into his eyes, and there, she saw nothing but honesty and, maybe, a tiny spark of hope.

She took a breath…and nodded.

"I will hold you to that, Jack Manson," she said to him. "You, and all of your people. So long as none of you harm anyone again…then yes, I will let you work for me. I will let you help me chase the morning."

"Thank you, Shilo," Jack said, and the gratitude she saw in his eyes was almost heartbreakingly real.


	12. Epilogue

Amber worked hard to keep her promises to Shilo. For as long as she lived, her priority as head of GeneCo was always to undo what her father did to the world, and to ensure that Shilo not regret her choice. She did surprisingly well at this, and under her reign, the world was slowly but surely led out of the darkness that had begun with the epidemic that had threatened to wipe out mankind.

Graverobber, recognizing the truth in what Shilo had said to him, struggled to regain his humanity after she left. It wasn't easy, and it took him a few years, but he eventually managed to find the human inside of him and embrace it. He then left the necromerchant business behind completely and took his place ruling the world by Amber's side, eventually even finding meaning in his relationship with her. To say the two fell in love might be a bit of a stretch; but, then again, maybe not. In being away from the Zydrate dealing business, Graverobber also eventually became the first necromerchant to recover from DRS, recalling his memories of his past and even his real name: Joseph Greenbury.

Even the Largo brothers, Luigi and Pavi, managed to find their ways in the world and leave their old, dark lives behind them. When Amber started working to get school systems across the globe going again, Luigi found a surprising passion for history, and ironically even became a teacher for the subject. Pavi worked hard to help his sister, as her errand-boy, until he discovered a passion even more unlikely than his brother's: numbers. Pavi also, eventually, had his original face reconstructed - a long, difficult process that took more than a week - and shed his sister's face, never to wear any face but his own again. Neither of the two brothers ever shed blood again.

None of the Repo-men were ever heard from again; no one else died by their hands. Strangely, the GENterns vanished with them, and it was generally assumed that this was no coincidence, though few people knew for sure what happened to the former slaves to Rotti's influence. Of course, Shilo knew, but as she, too, vanished, no one ever got a chance to ask her. Indeed, none of the common people of the world ever saw her again. The former Repo-men did well at their new task of keeping her hidden from the world as she traveled, and they were essentially her private underground network. Shilo eventually met every single one of them, and each and every one of them came away from meeting her with a new sense of life and humanity. As for Jack Manson himself, he stayed by Shilo's side, wherever she went, as her lifelong companion and friend.

And so it was that Rotti's reign of chaos ended. There was never again another war, nor was there ever again a plague of mindlessness or inhumanity anywhere, in the world that stood united, as one nation, forevermore.

THE END

P.S. If this ending was too cheesy for anyone, well, too bad; that's just how I roll. ;D


	13. Deleted Ch: Thawing Ice, Cooling Fire

**I am making this chapter a "deleted scene" because I wrote it, but felt that putting it in the main body of the story would interrupt the flow of the plot, as the rest of the story from chapter 7 to the epilogue is from Shilo's point of view. Gotta love those deleted scenes! XD**

* * *

><p><span>Deleted Scene: Thawing Ice, Cooling Fire (would have succeeded "Responsibility")<span>

Graverobber's encounter with Shilo, and her insights about who he was and how he lived his life, all but haunted him as he went to see Amber that night. He felt…hesitant. Was it wrong, that he enjoyed Amber even though they didn't care about each other? Was it wrong of him to demand this of her, when he wouldn't bat an eye if someone cut her throat right in front of him?…_Would_ he bat an eye if someone cut her throat right in front of him, for that matter? _She doesn't care, either,_ was the main argument in his mind against what he was questioning; but then again, he knew that that was probably only because she didn't know any different - he doubted anyone had ever cared about _her_ in her entire life…

He had hoped that, when he was finally alone with her, he would be able to forget his questions - his uncertainties - all the things talking with Shilo had made him feel. That was what he enjoyed about being with Amber - there was just so much pleasure in fucking her, he was able to just _forget_…but, almost as though the whole world was determined to go against him that night, when he met with her, she didn't greet him with a sexy smile. Instead, incredibly, he saw his own uncertainly reflected on her face.

The door to her room closed behind him, leaving them in near-darkness that didn't at all hide their faces from each other. She just sat where she was, looking at him with a strange, sad uncertainty, and he, likewise, simply stood where he was, looking at her, waiting for her to say…_something_. _Anything_.

Suddenly, it hit him: She had met with Shilo earlier that day, too.

No sooner had he realized this than she sighed.

"Graverobber-" she began.

"It's out of your hands," he told her, anticipating what she was going to ask him. "There's nothing else you can do about this whole mess; it's up to Shilo now."

"Oh, I know that," she said quickly. "I wasn't going to ask you for advice about what to do or anything. I just…" She hesitated, turning her gaze downward, as though she was embarrassed.

He waited, unsure what to think.

"I was just…wondering…" she said slowly. She paused again, then looked up to meet his eyes. "Do you care what happens to me?" she asked him softly.

He blinked.

She just met his gaze, waiting for his answer.

He gave himself a little shake, then forced himself to shrug. "Not particularly," he replied, his tone carefully nonchalant.

She closed her eyes and nodded slightly, almost as though his response had hurt her.

"Why?" he asked, and he half-smiled at her sarcastically. "Do _you_ care what happens to _me_?"

He hadn't been serious, so he was surprised when, instead of laughing and replying that no, of course she didn't care about him, she bit her lip, hesitated, then slowly nodded.

"Yes," she replied in a whisper.

He blinked; surely, he couldn't have heard her right. "What?" he asked.

"Yes," she repeated, more firmly, opening her eyes to meet his gaze again.

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, his tone carefully guarded.

"I don't know," she repeated; there was something in her eyes that he couldn't quite read.

There was silence between them for a minute. Finally, he sighed.

"Look, what we have _works_, alright?" he said, exasperated. "Can we not just leave it at that?"

She nodded, but her eyes looked suspiciously wet. "Of course," she said, and she did indeed sound like she was about to cry. "_You're_ the one who makes the terms of this bargain anyway, not me."

He shook his head, chuckling with surprised amazement. "If you were expecting affection from me, I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree," he told her.

"I wasn't _expecting_," she snapped; "I wasn't even hoping. I just…" She sighed. "I just had no way of knowing. I mean, I don't know what it's like to have someone care about me, so I couldn't know if you did or not without asking." Her expression hardened again, but Graverobber got the feeling that the coldness she was showing was just her way of protecting herself. "Don't worry," she said; "I know you hate me, and you have every reason to."

He sighed; for some reason, her hardness made him feel…discontent. "Well, you have plenty of reasons to hate me, too, so I suppose we're even," he admitted.

"But I don't hate you," she said, her coldness vanishing.

"Even though I set you up?" he challenged her, if softly.

"You were just trying to teach me a lesson," she said. She chuckled, then added, "In a way, in putting my life on the line, you were being better to me than my father ever was."

"What about when I mercilessly held you to our agreement?" he asked.

She gave him an empty half-smile. "That was only fair," she admitted; "I mean, I've done worse to you over the past five years."

There was another pause. This time, it was Amber who broke the silence with a sigh.

"I know you don't care about me," she said; "I don't know why I even felt like I had to ask. But…" She shook her head, as though what she was saying was hard for her to articulate. "I just want you to know…that…you do matter to me," she told him finally, meeting his eyes again.

He blinked.

"I'm…I'm glad you made me legalize grave-robbing," she went on hesitantly, as though the words felt as wrong to her in her mouth as they sounded to him coming out of it. "I'm glad you're not risking your life anymore when you do your job. I mean, I know that was your favorite part of your job, but it's…it's comforting, to me, somehow…to know that you're safe."

He closed his eyes and shook his head, a sarcastic smile forming on his lips. "I'm sure hell is freezing over somewhere," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

He heard her chuckle. "I hope so, baby," she said, and he opened his eyes to see her stand up. Instead of walking over to him, however, she turned her back to him and walked over to her windows, pulling one of the drapes back slightly to look out at the view that was already brightening with pre-dawn light. "I hope so."


End file.
